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WYANDOTTE; 


OR, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


BY    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER 


"I  venerate  the  Pilgrim's  cause, 
Yft  for  the  rt-d  man  clure  t(i  plead: 
We  bow  to  Heaven's  recorded  laws, 
H«  turns  to  Nature  for  his  creed."— Sprague 


IN      TWO      VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW    EDITION. 


NEW    YORK: 
STRINGER      AND      TOWNSEND, 

1852. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843,  by 

J.  FENIMORE  COOPER, 

in  the  clerk's  office  of  the  district  court  of  the  United  States,  for  tho 
Northern  District  of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


THE  history  of  the  borders  is  filled  with  legends 
of  the  sufferings  of  isolated  families,  during  the 
troubled  scenes  of  colonial  warfare.  Those  which 
we  now  offer  to  the  reader,  are  distinctive  in  many 
of  their  leading  facts,  if  not  rigidly  true  in  the  details. 
The  first  alone  is  necessary  to  the  legitimate  objects 
of  fiction. 

One  of  the  misfortunes  of  a  nation,  is  to  hear  little 
besides  its  own  praises.  Although  the  American 
revolution  was  probably  as  just  an  effort  as  was  ever 
made  by  a  people  to  resist  the  first  inroads  of  oppres 
sion,  the  cause  had  its  evil  aspects,  as  well  as  all 
other  human  struggles.  We  have  been  so  much  ac 
customed  to  hear  everything  extolled,  of  late  years, 
that  could  be  dragged  into  the  remotest  connection 
with  that  great  event,  and  the  principles  which  led 
to  it,  that  there  is  danger  of  overlooking  truth,  in  a 
pseudo  patriotism.  Nothing  is  really  patriotic,  how 
ever,  that  is  not  strictly  true  and  just;  any  more 
than  it  is  paternal  love  to  undermine  the  constitution 
of  a  child  by  an  indiscriminate  indulgence  in  per 
nicious  diet.  That  there  were  demagogues  in  1776, 
is  as  certain  as  that  there  are  demagogues  in  1843, 
and  will  probably  continue  to  be  demagogues  as  long 
as  means  for  misleading  the  common  mind  shall  exist. 

'* 


Vi  PREFACE. 

A  great  deal  of  undigested  morality  is  uttered  to 
the  world,  under  the  disguise  of  a  pretended  public 
virtue.  In  the  eye  of  reason,  the  man  who  delibe 
rately  and  voluntarily  contracts  civil  engagements  is 
more  strictly  bound  to  their  fulfilment,  than  he  whose 
whole  obligations  consist  of  an  accident  over  which 
he  had  not  the  smallest  control,  that  of  birth ;  though 
the  very  reverse  of  this  is  usually  maintained  under 
the  influence  of  popular  prejudice.  The  reader  will 
probably  discover  how  we  view  this  matter,  in  the 
course  of  our  narrative. 

Perhaps  this  story  is  obnoxious  to  the  charge  of  a 
slight  anachronism,  in  representing  the  activity  of 
the  Indians  a  year  earlier  than  any  were  actually 
employed  in  the  struggle  of  1775.  During  the  century 
of  warfare  that  existed  between  the  English  and 
French  colonies,  the  savage  tribes  were  important 
agents  in  furthering  the  views  of  the  respective  bel 
ligerents.  The  war  was  on  the  frontiers,  and  these 
fierce  savages  wrere,  in  a  measure,  necessary  to  the 
management  of  hostilities  that  invaded  their  own 
villages  and  hunting-grounds.  In  1775,  the  enemy 
came  from  the  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  it  was  only 
after  the  struggle  had  acquired  force,  that  the  opera 
tions  of  the  interior  rendered  the  services  of  such 
allies  desirable.  In  other  respects,  without  pretend 
ing  to  refer  to  any  real  events,  the  incidents  of  this 
tale  are  believed  to  be  sufficiently  historical  for  all 
the  legitimate  purposes  of  fiction. 

In  this  book  the  writer  has  aimed  at  sketching 
several  distinct  varieties  of  the  human  race,  as  true 


PREFACE.  Vll 

to  the  governing  impulses  of  their  educations,  habits, 
modes  of  thinking  and  natures.  The  red  man  had 
his  morality,  as  much  as  his  white  brother,  and  it  is 
well  known  that  even  Christian  ethics  are  coloured 
and  governed,  by  standards  of  opinion  set  up  on 
purely  human  authority.  The  honesty  of  one  Chris 
tian  is  not  always  that  of  another,  any  more  than 
his  humanity,  truth,  fidelity  or  faith.  The  spirit 
must  quit  its  earthly  tabernacle  altogether,  ere  it 
cease  to  be  influenced  by  its  tints  and  imperfections. 


THE  HUTTED  KlNOLL. 


CHAPTER   I. 

44  An  acorn  It'll  from  an  old  oak  tree, 
And  lay  on  the  frosty  ground — 
*O,  what  shall  the  fate  of  the  acorn  be?* 
Was  whispered  all  around 
Uy  low-toned  voices  chiming  sweet, 
Like  a  floweret's  hell  when  swung — 
And  grasshop|)cr  steeds  were  gathering  fleet, 
And  the  beetle's  hoofs  up-rung." 

MRS.  SEBA  SMITH. 

THERE  is  a  wide-spread  error  on  the  subject  of  American 
scenery.  From  the  size  of  the  lakes,  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  rivers,  the  vast  solitudes  of  the  forests,  and  the  seem 
ingly  boundless  expanse  of  the  prairies,  the  world  has 
come  to  attach  to  it  an  idea  of  grandeur;  a  word  that  is  in 
nearly  every  case,  misapplied.  The  scenery  of  that  portion 
of  the  American  continent  which  has  fallen  to  the  share  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  very  seldom  rises  to  a  scale  that 
merits  this  term  ;  when  it  does,  it  is  more  owing  to  the 
accessories,  as  in  the  case  of  the  interminable  woods,  than 
co  the  natural  face  of  the  country.  To  him  who  is  accus 
tomed  to  the  terrific  sublimity  of  the  Alps,  the  softened  and 
yet  wild  grandeur  of  the  Italian  lakes,  or  to  the  noble 
witchery  of  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  this  country 
is  apt  to  seem  tame,  and  uninteresting  as  a  whole ;  though 
it  certainly  has  exceptions  that  carry  charms  of  this  nature 
to  the  verge  of  loveliness. 

Of  the  latter  character  is  the  face  of  most  of  that  region 
which  lies  in  the  angle  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Mo 
hawk  with  the  Hudson,  extending  as  far  south,  or  even 
farther,  than  the  line  of  Pennsylvania,  and  west  to  the  verge 
of  that  vast  rolling  plain  which  composes  Western  New 
York.  This  is  a  region  of  more  than  ten  thousand  square 

(9) 


1Q  ;TH;E;    HUTTED      KNOLL. 

miles  of  ^suirfac^, '  e-mbracing  to-day,  ten  counties  at  least, 
a,nd.  supporting  a  .rural  population  of  near  half  a  million  of 
cbuls,  'exelueiiEg  the  river: towns. 

Afi  who  have1  seeV  this  district  of  country,  and  who  are 
familiar  with  the  elements  of  charming,  rather  than  grand 
scenery  it  possesses,  are  agreed  in  extolling  its  capabilities, 
and,  in  some  instances,  its  realities.  The  want  of  high 
finish  is  common  to  everything  of  this  sort  in  America  ;  and, 
perhaps  we  may  add,  that  the  absence  of  picturesqueness, 
as  connected  with  the  works  of  man,  is  a  general  defect ; 
still,  this  particular  region,  and  all  others  resembling  it — for 
they  abound  on  the  wide  surface  of  the  twenty-six  states- 
has  beauties  of  its  own,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  meet 
with  in  any  of  the  older  portions  of  the  earth. 

They  who  have  done  us  the  honour  to  read  our  previous 
works,  will  at  once  understand  that  the  district  to  which  we 
allude,  is  that  of  .which  we  have  taken  more  than  one  occa 
sion  to  write  ;  and  we  return  to  it  now,  less  with  a  desire 
to  celebrate  its  charms,  than  to  exhibit  them  in  a  somewhat 
novel,  and  yet  perfectly  historical  aspect.  Our  own  earlier 
labours  will  have  told  the  reader,  that  all  of  this  extended 
district  of  country,  with  the  exception  of  belts  of  settlements 
along  the  two  great  rivers  named,  was  a  wilderness,  anterior 
to  the  American  revolution.  There  was  a  minor  class  of 
exceptions  to  this  general  rule,  however,  to  which  it  will 
be  proper  to  advert,  lest,  by  conceiving  us  too  literally,  the 
reader  may  think  he  can  convict  us  of  a  contradiction.  In 
order  to  be  fully  understood,  the  explanations  shall  be  given 
at  a  little  length. 

While  it  is  true,  then,  that  the  mountainous  region,  which 
now  contains  the  counties  of  Schoharie,  Otsego,  Chenango, 
Broome,  Delaware,  &c.,  was  a  wilderness  in  1775,  The 
colonial  governors  had  begun  to  make  grants  of  its  lands, 
some  twenty  years  earlier.  The  patent  of  the  estate  on 
which  we  are  writing  lies  before  us ;  and  it  bears  the  date 
of  1769,  with  an  Indian  grant  annexed,  that  is  a  year  or 
two  older.  This  may  be  taken  as  a  mean  date  for  the  por 
tion  of  country  alluded  to  ;  some  of  the  deeds  being  older, 
and  others  still  more  recent.  These  grants  of  land  were 
originally  made,  subject  to  quit-rents  to  the  crown;  and 
usually  on  the  payment  of  heavy  fees  to  the  colonial  officers, 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  11 

after  going  through  the  somewhat  supererogatory  duty  of 
"extinguishing  the  Indian  title,"  as  it  was  called.  The 
latter  were  pretty  eflbctually  "  extinguished"  in  that  day, 
as  well  as  in  our  own ;  and  it  would  be  a  matter  of  curious 
research  to  ascertain  the  precise  nature  of  the  purchase- 
money  given  to  the  aborigines.  In  the  case  of  the  patent 
before  us,  the  Indian  right  was  "  extinguished"  by  means 
of  a  few  rifles,  blankets,  kettles,  and  beads  ;  though  the 
grant  covers  a  nominal  hundred  thousand,  and  a  real 
hundred  and  ten  or  twenty  thousand  acres  of  land. 

The  abuse  of  the  grants,  as  land  became  more  valuable, 
induced  a  law,  restricting  the  number  of  acres  patented  to 
any  one  person,  at  any  one  time,  to  a  thousand.  Our  mo 
narchical  predecessors  had  the  same  facilities,  and  it  may 
be  added,  the  same  propensities,  to  rendering  a  law  a  dead 
letter,  as  belongs  to  our  republican  selves.  The  patent  on 
our  table,  being  for  a  nominal  hundred  thousand  acres,  con 
tains  the  names  of  one  hundred  different  grantees,  while 
three  several  parchment  documents  at  its  side,  each  signed 
by  thirty-three  of  these  very  persons,  vest  the  legal  estate 
in  the  first  named,  for  whose  sole  benefit  the  whole  conces 
sion  was  made  ;  the  dates  of  the  last  instruments  succeeding, 
by  one  or  two  days,  that  of  the  royal  patent  itself. 

Such  is  the  history  of  most  of  the  original  titles  to  the 
many  estates  that  dotted  the  region  we  have  described, 
prior  to  the  revolution.  Money  and  favouritism,  however, 
were  not  always  the  motives  of  these  large  concessions. 
Occasionally,  services  presented  their  claims ;  and  many 
instances  occur  in  which  old  officers  of  the  army,  in  par 
ticular,  received  a  species  of  reward,  by  a  patent  for  land, 
the  fees  being  duly  paid,  and  the  Indian  title  righteously 
"extinguished."  These  grants  to  ancient  soldiers  were 
seldom  large,  except  in  the  cases  of  officers  of  rank  ;  three 
or  four  thousand  well-selected  acres,  being  a  sufficient  boon 
to  the  younger  sons  of  Scottish  lairds,  or  English  squires, 
who  had  been  accustomed  to  look  upon  a  single  farm  as  an 
estate. 

As  most  of  the  soldiers  mentioned  were  used  to  forest 
life,  from  having  been  long  stationed  at  frontier  posts,  and 
had  thus  become  familiarized  with  its  privations,  and  har 
dened  against  its  dangers,  it  was  no  unusual  thing  for  them 


12  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

to  sell  out,  or  go  on  half-pay,  when  the  wants  of  a  family 
began  to  urge  their  claims,  and  to  retire  to  their  "  patents," 
as  the  land  itself,  as  well  as  the  instrument  by  which  it  was 
granted,  was  invariably  termed,  with  a  view  of  establishing 
themselves  permanently  as  landlords. 

These  grants  from  the  crown,  in  the  portions  of  the 
colony  of  New  York  that  lie  west  of  the  river  counties, 
were  generally,  if  not  invariably,  simple  concessions  of  the 
fee,  subject  to  quit-rents  to  the  king,  ar.d  reservations  of 
mines  of  the  precious  metals,  without  any  of  the  privileges 
of  feudal  seignory,  as  existed  in  the  older  manors  on  the 
Hudson,  on  the  islands,  and  on  the  Sound.  Why  this  dis 
tinction  was  made,  it  exceeds  our  power  to  say  j  but,  that 
the  fact  was  so,  as  a  rule,  we  have  it  in  proof,  by  means  of 
a  great  number  of  the  original  patents,  themselves,  that 
have  been  transmitted  to  us  from  various  sources.  Still, 
the  habits  of  "  home"  entailed  the  name,  even  where  the 
thing  was  not  to  be  found.  Titular  manors  exist,  in  a  few 
instances,  to  this  day,  where  no  manorial  rights  were  ever 
granted ;  and  manor-houses  were  common  appellations  for 
the  residences  of  the  landlords  of  large  estates,  that  were 
held  in  fee,  without  any  exclusive  privileges,  and  subject  to 
the  reservation  named.  Some  of  these  manorial  residences 
were  of  so  primitive  an  appearance,  as  to  induce  the  belief 
that  the  names  were  bestowed  in  pleasantry ;  the  dwellings 
themselves  being  of  logs,  with  the  bark  still  on  them,  and 
the  other  fixtures  to  correspond.  Notwithstanding  all  these 
drawbacks,  early  impressions  and  rooted  habits  could  easily 
transfer  terms  to  such  an  abode  ;  and  there  was  always  a 
saddened  enjoyment  among  these  exiles,  when  they  could 
liken  their  forest  names  and  usages  to  those  they  had  left 
in  the  distant  scenes  of  their  childhood. 

The  effect  of  the  different  causes  we  have  here  given  was 
to  dot  the  region  described,  though  at  long  intervals,  with 
spots  of  a  semi-civilized  appearance,  in  the  midst  of  the 
vast — nay,  almost  boundless — expanse  of  forest.  Some  of 
these  early  settlements  had  made  considerable  advances 
towards  finish  and  comfort,  ere  the  war  of  '76  drove  their 
occupants  to  seek  protection  against  the  inroads  of  the 
savages ;  and  long  after  the  influx  of  immigration  which 
succeeded  the  peace,  the  fruits,  the  meadows,  and  the  tjlle^ 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL,  13 

fields  of  fnese  oases  in  the  desert,  rendered  them  conspicuous 
amidst  the  blackened  stumps,  piled  logs,  and  smooty  fallows 
of  an  active  and  bustling  settlement.  At  even  a  much  later 
day,  they  were  to  be  distinguished  by  the  smoother  surfaces 
of  their  fields,  the  greater  growth  and  more  bountiful  yield 
of  their  orchards,  and  by  the  general  appearance  of  a  more 
finished  civilization,  and  of  greater  age.  Here  and  there, 
a  hamlet  had  sprung  up;  and  isolated  places,  like  Cherry 
Valley  and  Wyoming,  were  found,  that  have  since  become 
known  to  the  general  history  of  the  country. 

Our  present  tale  now  leads  us  to  the  description  of  one 
of  those  early,  personal,  or  family  settlements,  that  had 
grown  up,  in  what  was  then  a  very  remote  part  of  the  ter 
ritory  in  question,  under  the  care  and  supervision  of  an 
ancient  officer  of  the  name  of  Willoughby.  Captain  Wil- 
lough  by,  after  serving  many  years,  had  married  an  Ameri 
can  wife,  and  continuing  his  services  until  a  son  and 
daughter  were  born,  he  sold  his  commission,  procured  a 
grant  of  land,  and  determined  to  retire  to  his  new  posses 
sions,  in  order  to  pass  the  close  of  his  life  in  .the  tranquil 
pursuits  of  agriculture,  and  in  the  bosom  of  his  family.  An 
adopted  child  was  also  added  to  his  cares.  Being  an 
educated  as  well  as  a  provident  man,  Captain  Willoughby 
had  set  about  the  execution  of  this  scheme  with  deliberation, 
prudence,  and  intelligence.  On  the  frontiers,  or  lines,  as  it 
is  the  custom  to  term  the  American  boundaries,  he  had 
1  ecome  acquainted  with  a  Tuscarora,  known  by  the  English 
sobriquet  of  "  Saucy  Nick."  This  fellow,  a  sort  of  half- 
outcast  from  his  own  people,  had  early  attached  himself  to 
the  whites,  had  acquired  their  language,  and  owing  to  a 
singular  mixture  of  good  and  bad  qualities,  blended  with 
groat  native  shrewdness,  he  had  wormed  himself  into  the 
confidence  of  several  commanders  of  small  garrisons,  among 
whom  was  our  captain.  No  sooner  was  the  mind  of  the 
latter  made  up,  concerning  his  future  course,  than  he  sent 
for  Nick,  who  was  then  in  the  fort ;  when  the  following 
convocation  took  place : 

"  Nick,"  commenced  the  captain,  passing  his  hand  over 
his  brow,  as  was  his  wont  when  in  a  reflecting  mood; 
'*  Nick,  I  have  an  important  movement  in  view,  in  which 
you  can  be  of  some  service  to  me." 

VOL.  I.  — 2 


14  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

The  Tuscarora,  fastening  his  dark  basilisk-like  eyes  on  the 
soldier,  gazed  a  moment,  as  if  to  read  his  soul ;  then  he 
jerked  a  thumb  backward,  over  his  own  shoulder,  and  said, 
with  a  grave  smile — 

"  Nick  understand.  Want  six,  two,  scalp  off  French 
man's  head ;  wife  and  child ;  out  yonder,  over  dere,  up  in 
Canada.  Nick  do  him — what  you  give  ?" 

"  No,  you  red  rascal,  I  want  nothing  of  the  sort  —  it  is 
peace  now,  (this  conversation  took  place  in  1764),  and  you 
know  I  never  bought  a  scalp,  in  time  of  war.  Let  me  hear 
no  more  of  this." 

"  What  you  want,  den  ?"  asked  Nick,  like  one  who  was 
a  good  deal  puzzled. 

"  I  want  land — good  land — little,  but  good.  I  am  about 
to  get  a  grant — a  patent — " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Nick,  nodding ;  "  I  know  him — paper 
to  take  away  Indian's  hunting-ground." 

"  Why,  I  have  no  wish  to  do  that  —  I  am  willing  to  pay 
the  red  men  reasonably  for  their  right,  first." 

"  Buy  Nick's  land,  den — better  dan  any  oder." 

"  Your  land,  knave  ! — You  own  no  land — belong  to  no 
tribe — have  no  rights  to  sell." 

"  What  for  ask  Nick  help,  den  ?" 

"  What  for  ?  —  Why  because  you  know  a  good  deal, 
though  you  own  literally  nothing.  That 's  what  for." 

"  Buy  Nick  know,  den.  Better  dan  he  great  fader  know, 
down  at  York." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  do  wish  to  purchase.  I  will  pay 
you  well,  Nick,  if  you  will  start  to-morrow,  with  your  rifle 
and  a  pocket-compass,  off  here  towards  the  head-waters  of 
the  Susquehannah  and  Delaware,  where  the  streams  run 
rapidly,  and  where  there  are  no  fevers,  and  bring  me  an 
account  of  three  or  four  thousand  acres  of  rich  bottom-land, 
in  such  a  way  as  a  surveyor  can  find  it,  and  I  can  get  a 
patent  for  it.  What  say  you,  Nick  ;  will  you  go?" 

"  He  not  wanted.  Nick  sell  'e  captain,  his  own  land ; 
here  in  'e  fort." 

"  Knave,  do  you  not  know  me  well  enough  not  to  trifle, 
when  I  am  serious  ?" 

"  Nick  ser'ous  too — Moravian  priest  no  ser'ouser  more 
dan  Nick  at  dis  moment.  Got  land  to  sell." 

Captain  Willoughby  had  found  occasion  to  punish  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  15 


Tuscarora,  in  the  course  of  his  services  ;  and  as  the 
understood  each  other  perfectly  well,  the  former  saw  the 
improbability  of  the  latter's  daring  to  trifle  with  him. 

"  U'liere  is  this  land  of  yours,  Nick,"  he  inquired,  after 
studying  the  Indian's  countenance  for  a  moment.  "  Where 
does  it  lie,  what  is  it  like,  how  much  is  there  of  it,  and  how 
came  you  to  own  it  ?" 

"  Ask  him  just  so,  ag'in,"  said  Nick,  taking  up  four 
twii^s,  to  note  down  the  questions,  seriatim. 

The  captain  repeated  his  inquiries,  the  Tuscarora  laying 
down  a  stick  at  each  separate  interrogatory. 

"  Where  he  be?"  answered  Nick,  taking  up  a  twig,  as  a 
memorandum.  "  He  out  dere  —  where  he  want  him  —  where 
he  say.  —  One  day's  march  from  Susquchanna." 

"  Well  ;  proceed." 

"  What  he  like  ?—  Like  land,  to  be  sure.  T'ink  he  like 
water  !  Got  some  water  —  no  too  much  —  got  some  land  — 
got  no  tree  —  got  some  tree.  Got  good  sugar-bush  —  got 
place  for  wheat  and  corn." 

"  Proceed." 

"How  much  of  him?"  continued  Nick,  taking  up  another 
twig  ;  "  much  as  he  want  —  want  little,  got  him  —  want  more, 
got  him.  Want  none  at  all,  got  none  at  all  —  got  what  he 
want." 

"  Go  on." 

"To  be  sure.  How  came  to  own  him?  —  How  a  pale 
face  come  to  own  America?  Discover  him  —  ha!  —  Well, 
Nick  discover  land  down  yonder,  up  dere,  over  here." 

"  Nick,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  all  this?" 

"No  mean  devil,  at  all  —  moan  land  —  good  land. 
Discover  him  —  know  where  he  is  —  catch  beaver  dere, 
three,  two  year.  All  Nick  say,  true  as  word  of  honour  ; 
much  more  loo." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  is  an  old  beaver-dam  destroyed  ?"  asked 
the  captain,  pricking  up  his  ears;  for  he  was  too  familiar 
with  the  woods,  not  to  understand  the  value  of  such  a  thing. 

"  No  destroy  —  stand  up  yet  —  good  as  ever.  —  Nick  dere, 
last  season." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  tell  of  it?  Are  not  the  beaver  of 
more  value  to  you,  than  any  price  you  may  receive  for  tho 
land  ?" 

"Cotch  him  all,  four,  two  year  ago  —  rest  run  away. 


16  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

No  find  beaver  to  stay  long,  when  Indian  once  know,  two 
time,  where  to  set  he  trap.  Beaver  cunninger  'an  pale 
face — cunning  as  bear." 

"  I  begin  to  comprehend  you,  Nick.  How  large  do  you 
suppose  this  pond  to  be  ?" 

"  He'm  not  as  big  as  Lake  Ontario.  S'pose  him  smaller; 
what  den  ?  Big  enough  for  farm." 

"  Does  it  cover  one  or  two  hundred  acres,  think  you  ?— 
Is  it  as  large  as  the  clearing  around  the  fort?" 

"  Big  as  two,  six,  four  of  him.  Take  forty  skin,  dere. 
one  season.  Little  lake  ;  all  'e  tree  gone." 

"And  the  land  around  it — is  it  mountainous  and  rough, 
or  will  it  be  good  for  corn  ?" 

"  All  sugar-bush — what  you  want  better  ?  S'pose  you 
want  corn ;  plant  him.  S'pose  you  want  sugar ;  make 
him." 

Captain  Wi  Hough  by  was  struck  with  this  description,  and 
he  returned  to  the  subject,  again  and  again.  At  length, 
after  extracting  all  the  information  he  could  get  from  Nick, 
he  struck  a  bargain  with  the  fellow.  A  surveyor  was 
engaged,  and  he  started  for  the  place,  under  the  guidance 
of  the  Tuscarora.  The  result  showed  that  Nick  had  not 
exaggerated.  The  pond  was  found,  as  he  had  described  it 
to  be,  covering  at  least  four  hundred  acres  of  low  bottom 
land  ;  while  near  three  thousand  acres  of  higher  river-flat, 
covered  with  beach  and  maple,  spread  around  it  for  a  con 
siderable  distance.  The  adjacent  mountains  too,  were  ara 
ble,  though  bold,  and  promised,  in  time,  to  become  a  fertile 
and  manageable  district.  Calculating  his  distances  with 
judgment,  the  surveyor  laid  out  his  metes  and  bounds  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  include  the  pond,  all  the  low-land,  and 
about  three  thousand  acres  of  hill,  or  mountain,  making  the 
materials  for  a  very  pretty  little  "patent"  of  somewhat 
more  than  six  thousand  acres  of  capital  land.  He  then  col 
lected  a  few  chiefs  of  the  nearest  tribe,  dealt  out  his  rum, 
tobacco,  blankets,  wampum,  and  gunpowder,  got  twelve 
Indians  to  make  their  marks  on  a  bit  of  deer-skin,  and 
returned  to  his  employer  with  a  map,  a  field-book,  and  a 
deed,  by  which  the  Indian  title  was  "  extinguished."  The 
surveyor  received  his  compensation,  and  set-off  on  a  similar 
excursion,  for  a  different  employer,  and  in  another  direction. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  17 

Nick  got  his  reward,  too,  and  was  well  satisfied  with  tho 
transaction.  This  he  afterwards  called  "  sellin'  beaver 
when  he  all  run  away." 

Furnished  with  the  necessary  means,  Captain  Willoughby 
now  "  sued  out  his  patent,"  as  it  was  termed,  in  due  form. 
Having  some  influence,  the  affair  was  soon  arranged;  the 
grant  was  made  by  the  governor  in  council,  a  massive  seal 
was  annexed  to  a  famous  sheet  of  parchment,  the  signatures 
were  obtained,  and  "  Willoughby's  Patent"  took  its  place 
on  the  records  of  the  colony,  as  well  as  on  its  maps.  We 
are  wrong  as  respects  the  latter  particular ;  it  did  not  take 
its  place,  on  the  maps  of  the  colony,  though  it  took  a  place  ; 
the  location  given  for  many  years  afterwards,  being  some 
forty  or  fifty  miles  too  far  west.  In  this  peculiarity  there 
was  nothing  novel,  the  surveys  of  all  new  regions  being 
liable  to  similar  trifling  mistakes.  Thus  it  was,  that  an 
estate,  lying  within  five-and-twenty  miles  of  the  city  of 
New  York,  and  in  which  we  happen  to  have  a  small  interest 
at  this  hour,  was  clipped  of  its  fair  proportions,  in  conse 
quence  of  losing  some  miles  that  run  over  obtrusively  into 
another  colony ;  and,  within  a  short  distance  of  the  spot 
where  we  are  writing,  a  "  patent"  has  been  squeezed  entirely 
out  of  existence,  between  the  claims  of  two  older  grants. 

No  such  calamity  befell  ««  Willoughby's  Patent,"  how- 
ever.  The  land  was  found,  with  all  its  "  marked  or  blazed 
trees,"  its  "  heaps  of  stones,"  "  large  butternut  corners," 
and  "  dead  oaks."  In  a  word,  everything  was  as  it  should 
be  ;  even  to  the  quality  of  the  soil,  the  beaver-pond,  and  the 
quantity.  As  respects  the  last,  the  colony  never  gave 
"struck  measure;"  a  thousand  acres  on  paper,  seldom 
falling  short  of  eleven  or  twelve  hundred  in  soil.  In  tho 
present  instance,  the  six  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty- 
six  acres  of  "  Willoughby's  Patent,"  were  subsequently 
ascertained  to  contain  just  seven  thousand  and  ninety-two 
acres  of  solid  ground. 

Our  limits  and  plan  will  not  permit  us  to  give  more  than 
a  sketch  of  the  proceedings  of  the  captain,  in  taking  pos 
session  ;  though  we  feel  certain  that  a  minute  account  of 
the  progress  of  such  a  settlement  would  possess  a  sort  of 
Robinson  Crusoe-like  interest,  that  might  repay  the  reader. 
As  usual,  the  adventurers  commenced  their  operations  in 
2* 


18  THE     HUTTED     KNOLIi. 

the  spring.  Mrs.  Willoughby,  and  the  children,  were  left 
with  their  friends,  in  Albany ;  while  the  captain  and  his 
party  pioneered  their  way  to  the  patent,  in  the  best  manner 
they  could.  This  party  consisted  of  Nick,  who  went  in  the 
capacity  of  hunter,  an  office  of  a  good  deal  of  dignity,  and 
of  the  last  importance,  to  a  set  of  adventurers  on  an  expedi 
tion  of  this  nature.  Then  there  were  eight  axe-men,  a 
house-carpenter,  a  mason,  and  a  mill-wright.  These,  with 
Captain  Willoughby,  and  an  invalid  sergeant,  of  the  name 
of  Joyce,  composed  the  party. 

Our  adventurers  made  most  of  their  journey  by  water. 
After  finding  their  way  to  the  head  of  the  Canaideraga,  mis 
taking  it  for  the  Otsego,  they  felled  trees,  hollowed  them 
into  canoes,  embarked,  and,  aided  by  a  yoke  of  oxen  that 
were  driven  along  the  shore,  they  wormed  their  way, 
through  the  Oaks,  into  the  Susquehanna,  descending  that 
river  until  they  reached  the  Unadilla,  which  stream  they 
ascended  until  they  came  to  the  small  river,  known  in  the 
parlance  of  the  country,  by  the  erroneous  name  of  a  creek, 
that  ran  through  the  captain's  new  estate.  The  labour  of 
this  ascent  was  exceedingly  severe ;  but  the  whole  journey 
was  completed  by  the  end  of  April,  and  while  the  streams 
were  high.  Snow  still  lay  in  the  woods ;  but  the  sap  had 
started,  and  the  season  was  beginning  to  show  its  promise. 

The  first  measure  adopted  by  our  adventurers  was  to 
"  hut."  In  the  very  centre  of  the  pond,  which,  it  will  be 
remembered,  covered  four  hundred  acres,  was  an  island  of 
some  five  or  six  acres  in  extent.  It  was  a  rocky  knoll,  that 
rose  forty  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  was  still 
crowned  with  noble  pines,  a  species  of  tree  that  had  escaped 
the  ravages  of  the  beaver.  In  the  pond,  itself,,  a  few 
"  stubs"  alone  remained,  the  water  having  killed  the  trees, 
which  had  fallen  and  decayed.  This  circumstance  showed 
that  the  stream  had  long  before  been  dammed ;  successions 
of  families  of  beavers  having  probably  occupied  the  place, 
and  renewed  the  works,  for  centuries,  at  intervals  of  genera 
tions.  The  dam  in  existence,  however,  was  not  very  old  ; 
the  animals  having  fled  from  their  great  enemy,  man,  rather 
than  from  any  other  foe. 

To  the  island  Captain  Willoughby  transferred  all  his 
stores,  and  here  he  built  his  hut.  This  was  opposed  to  the 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  19 

notions  of  his  axe-men,  who,  rightly  enough,  fancied  tho 
mainland  would  be  more  convenient ;  but  the  captain  and 
the  sergeant,  after  a  council  of  war,  divided  that  the  position 
on  the  knoll  would  be  the  most  military,  and  might  bo 
defended  the  longest,  against  man  or  beast.  Another  station 
was  taken  up,  however,  on  the  nearest  shore,  where  such 
of  the  men  were  permitted  to  "hut,"  as  preferred  the 
location. 

These  preliminaries  observed,  the  captain  meditated  a 
bold  stroke  against  the  wilderness,  by  draining  the  pond, 
and  coming  at  once  into  the  possession  of  a  noble  (arm, 
cleared  of  trees  and  stumps,  as  it  might  be  by  a  coup  de 
main.  This  would  be  compressing  the  results  of  ordinary 
years  of  toil,  into  those  of  a  single  season,  and  everybody 
\vas  agreed  as  to  the  expediency  of  the  course,  provided  it 
were  feasible. 

The  feasibility  was  soon  ascertained.  The  stream  which 
ran  through  the  valley,  was  far  from  swift,  until  it  reached 
a  pass  where  the  hills  approached  each  other  in  low  pro 
montories  ;  there  the  land  fell  rapidly  away  to  what  might 
be  termed  a  lower  terrace.  Across  this  gorge,  or  defile,  a 
distance  of  about  five  hundred  feet,  the  dam  had  been 
thrown,  a  good  deal  aided  by  the  position  of  some  rocks 
that  here  rose  to  the  surface,  and  through  which  the  little 
river  found  its  passage.  The  part  which  might  be  termed 
the  key-stone  of  the  dam,  was  only  twenty  yards  wide,  and 
immediately  below  it,  the  rocks  fell  away  rapidly,  quite 
sixty  feet,  carrying  down  the  waste  water  in  a  sort  of  fall. 
Here  the  mill-Wright  announced  his  determination  to  com 
mence  operations  at  once,  putting  in  a  protest  against 
destroying  the  works  of  the  beavers.  A  pond  of  four 
hundred  acres  being  too  great  a  luxury  for  the  region,  the 
man  was  overruled,  and  the  labour  commenced. 

The  first  blow  was  struck  against  the  dam  about  nine 
o'clock,  on  the  2d  day  of  May,  1765,  and,  by  evening,  the 
little  sylvan-looking  lake,  which  had  lain  embedded  in  the 
forest,  glittering  in  the  morning  sun,  unruffled  by  a  breath 
of  air,  had  entirely  disappeared  !  In  its  place,  there  re 
mained  an  open  expanse  of  wet  mud,  thickly  covered  with 
pools  and  the  remains  of  beaver-houses,  with  a  small  river 
winding  its  way  slowly  through  the  slime.  The  change  to 


20  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

the  eye  was  melancholy  indeed ;  though  the  prospect  was 
cheering  to  the  agriculturist.  No  sooner  did  the  water 
obtain  a  little  passage,  than  it  began  to  clear  the  way  for 
itself,  gushing  out  in  a  torrent,  through  the  pass  already 
mentioned. 

The  following  morning,  Captain  Willoughby  almost 
mourned  over  the  works  of  his  hands.  The  scene  was  so 
very  different  from  that  it  had  presented  when  the  flats 
were  covered  with  water,  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel 
the  change.  For  quite  a  month,  it  had  an  influence  on  the 
whole  party.  Nick,  in  particular,  denounced  it,  as  unwise 
and  uncalled  for,  though  he  had  made  his  price  out  of  the 
very  circumstance  in  prospective  ;  and  even  Sergeant  Joyce 
was  compelled  to  admit  that  the  knoll,  an  island  no  longer, 
had  lost  quite  half  its  security  as  a  military  position.  The 
next  month,  however,  brought  other  changes.  Half  the 
pools  had  vanished  by  drainings  and  evaporation ;  the  mud 
had  begun  to  crack,  and,  in  some  places  to  pulverize  ;  while 
the  upper  margin  of  the  old  pond  had  become  sufficiently 
firm  to  permit  the  oxen  to  walk  over  it,  without  miring. 
Fences  of  trees,  brush,  and  even  rails,  enclosed,  on  this 
portion  of  the  flats,  quite  fifty  acres  of  land  ;  and  Indian 
corn,  oats,  pumpkins,  peas,  potatoes,  flax,  and  several  other 
sorts  of  seed,  were  already  in  the  ground.  The  spring 
proved  dry,  and  the  sun  of  the  forty-third  degree  of  latitude 
was  doing  its  work,  with  great  power  and  beneficence. 
What  was  of  nearly  equal  importance,  the  age  of  the  pond 
had  prevented  any  recent  accumulation  of  vegetable  matter, 
and  consequently  spared  tho'se  who  laboured  around  the 
spot,  the  impurities  of  atmosphere  usually  consequent  on 
its  decay.  Grass-seed,  too,  had  been  liberally  scattered  on 
favourable  places,  and  things  began  to  assume  the  appear 
ance  of  what  is  termed  "  living." 

August  presented  a  still  different  picture.  A  saw-mill  was 
up,  and  had  been  at  work  for  some  time.  Piles  of  green 
boards  began  to  make  their  appearance,  and  the  plane  of 
the  carpenter  was  already  in  motion.  Captain  Willoughby 
was  rich,  in  a  small  way ;  in  other  words,  he  possessed  a 
few  thousand  pounds  besides  his  land,  and  had  yet  to  re 
ceive  the  price  of  his  commission.  A  portion  of  these  means 
were  employed  judiciously  to  advance  his  establishment; 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  21 

and,  satisfied  that  there  would  be  no  scarcity  of  fodder  for 
the  ensuing  winter,  a  man  had  been  sent  into  the  settle 
ments  for  another  yoke  of  cattle,  and  a  couple  of  cows. 
Fanning  utensils  were  manufactured  on  the  spot,  and  sleds 
began  to  take  the  place  of  carts ;  the  latter  exceeding  the 
skill  of  any  of  the  workmen  present. 

October  offered  its  products  as  a  reward  for  all  this  toil. 
The  yield  was  enormous,  and  of  excellent  quality.  Of 
Indian  corn,  the  captain  gathered  several  hundred  bushels, 
besides  stacks  of  stalks  and  tops.  His  turnips,  too,  were 
superabundant  in  quantity,  and  of  a  delicacy  and  flavour 
entirely  unknown  to  the  precincts  of  old  lands.  The  pota 
toes  had  not  done  so  well ;  to  own  the  truth,  they  were  a 
little  watery,  though  there  were  enough  of  them  to  winter 
every  hoof  he  had,  of  themselves.  Then  the  peas  and 
garden  truck  were  both  good  and  plenty ;  and  a  few  pigs 
having  been  procured,  there  was  the  certainty  of  enjoying 
a  plenty  of  that  important  article,  pork,  during  the  coming 
winter. 

Late  in  the  autumn,  the  captain  rejoined  his  family  in 
Albany,  quitting  the  field  for  winter  quarters.  He  left  ser 
geant  Joyce,  in  garrison,  supported  by  Nick,  a  miller,  the 
mason,  carpenter,  and  three  of  the  axe-men.  Their  duty 
was  to  prepare  materials  for  the  approaching  season,  to 
take  care  of  the  stock,  to  put  in  winter  crops,  to  make  a  few 
bridges,  clear  out  a  road  or  two,  haul  wood  to  keep  them 
selves  from  freezing,  to  build  a  log  barn  and  some  sheds, 
and  otherwise  to  advance  the  interests  of  the  settlement. 
They  were  also  to  commence  a  house  for  the  patentee. 

As  his  children  were  at  school,  captain  Willoughby  de 
termined  not  to  take  his  family  immediately  to  the  Hutted 
Knoll,  as  the  place  soon  came  to  be  called,  from  the  cir 
cumstance  of  the  original  bivouack.  This  name  was  con 
ferred  by  sergeant  Joyce,  who  had  a  taste  in  that  way,  and 
as  it  got  to  be  confirmed  by  the  condescension  of  the  pro 
prietor  and  his  family,  we  have  chosen  it  to  designate  our 
present  labours.  From  lime  to  time,  a  messenger  arrived 
with  news  from  the  place ;  and  twice,  in  the  course  of  the 
winter,  the  same  individual  went  back  with  supplies,  and 
encouraging  messages  to  the  different  persons  left  in  the 
clearing.  As  spring  approached,  however,  the  captain  be- 


22  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

gan  to  make  his  preparations  for  the  coming  campaign,  in 
which  he  was  to  be  accompanied  by  his  wife ;  Mrs.  Wil- 
loughby,  a  mild,  affectionate,  true-hearted  New  York  wo 
man,  having  decided  not  to  let  her  husband  pass  another 
summer  in  that  solitude  without  feeling  the  cheering  influ 
ence  of  her  presence. 

In  March,  before  the  snow  began  to  melt,  several  sleigh- 
loads  of  different  necessaries  were  sent  up  the  valley  of  the 
Mohawk,  to  a  point  opposite  the  head  of  the  Otsego,  where 
a  thriving  village  called  Fortplain  now  stands.  Thence 
men  were  employed  in  transporting  the  articles,  partly  by 
means  of  "  jumpers"  improvised  for  the  occasion,  and  partly 
on  pack-horses,  to  the  lake,  which  was  found  this  time,  in 
stead  of  its  neighbour  the  Canaderaiga.  This  necessary 
and  laborious  service  occupied  six  weeks,  the  captain  having 
been  up  as  far  as  the  lake  once  himself;  returning  to  Albany, 
however,  ere  the  snow  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   II. 

All  things  are  new — the  buds,  the  leaves, 
That  gild  the  elm-tree's  nodding  crest, 
And  even  the  nest  beneath  the  eaves — 
There  are  no  birds  in  last  year's  nest. 

LONGFELLOW. 

"  I  HAVE  good  news  for  you,  Wilhelmina,"  cried  the 
captain,  coming  into  the  parlour  where  his  wife  used  to  sit 
and  knit  or  sew  quite  half  the  day,  and  speaking  with  a 
bright  face,  and  in  a  cheerful  voice — "  Here  is  a  letter  from 
my  excellent  old  colonel ;  and  Bob's  affair  is  all  settled  and 
agreed  on.  He  is  to  leave  school  next  week,  and  to  put  on 
His  Majesty's  livery  the  week  after." 

Mrs.  Willoughby  smiled,  and  yet  two  or  three  tears  fol 
lowed  each  other  down  her  cheeks,  even  while  she  smiled. 
The  first  was  produced  by  pleasure  at  hearing  that  her  son 
had  got  an  ensigncy  in  the  60th,  or  Royal  Americans ;  and 
the  last  was  a  tribute  paid  to  nature ;  a  mother's  fears  at 
consigning  an  only  boy  to  the  profession  of  arms. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  23 

"I  am  rejoiced,  "U'ilioughby,"  she  said,  "because  you 
rejoice,  and  I  know  that  Robert  will  be  delighted  at  po 
ing  tiie  king's  commission  ;  but,  he  is  eery  young  to  be  sent 
into  the  dangers  of  battle  and  the  camp  !" 

k-  I  was  younger,  when  I  actually  went  into  battle,  for 
then  it  was  war;  now,  we  have  a  peace  that  promises  to  be 
endless,  and  Bob  will  have  abundance  of  time  to  cultivate  a 
beard  before  he  smells  gunpowder.  As  for  myself"  —  he 
added  in  a  ha  If- regretful  manner,  for  old  habits  and  opinions 
would  occasionally  cross  his  mind  —  "as  for  myself,  the 
cultivation  of  turnips  must  be  my  future  occupation.  Well, 
the  bit  of  parchment  is  sold,  Bob  has  got  his  in  its  place, 
while  the  difference  in  price  is  in  my  pocket,  and  no  more 
need  be  said  —  and  here  come  our  dear  girls,  Wilhclmina, 
to  prevent  any  regrets.  The  father  of  two  such  daughters 
ought,  at  least,  to  be  happy." 

At  this  instant,  Beulah  and  Maud  Willoughby,  (for  so 
the  adopted  child  was  called  as  well  as  the  real),  entered 
the  room,  having  taken  the  lodgings  of  their  parents,  in  a 
morning  walk,  on  which  they  were  regularly  sent  by  the 
mistress  of  the  boarding-school,  in  which  they  were  receiving 
what  was  then  thought  to  be  a  first-rate  American  female 
education.  And  much  reason  had  their  fond  parents  to  be 
proud  of  them  !  Beulah,  the  eldest,  was  just  eleven,  while 
her  sister  was  eighteen  months  younger.  The  first  had  a 
staid,  and  yet  a  cheerful  look ;  but  her  cheeks  were  bloom 
ing,  her  eyes  bright,  and  her  smile  sweet.  Maud,  the  adopt 
ed  one,  however,  had  already  the  sunny  countenance  of  an 
angel,  with  quite  as  much  of  the  appearance  of  health  as 
her  sister ;  her  face  had  more  finesse,  her  looks  more  intel 
ligence,  her  playfulness  more  feeling,  her  smile  more  ten 
derness,  at  times  ;  at  others,  more  meaning.  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  say  that  both  had  that  delicacy  of  outline 
which  seems  almost  inseparable  from  the  female  form  in 
this  country.  What  was,  perhaps,  more  usual  in  that  day 
among  persons  of  their  class  than  it  is  in  our  own,  each 
spoke  her  own  language  with  an  even  graceful  utterance, 
and  a  faultless  accuracy  of  pronunciation,  equally  removed 
from  effort  and  provincialisms.  As  the  Dutch  was  in  very 
common  use  then,  at  Albany,  and  most  females  of  Dutch 
origin  had  a  slight  touch  of  their  mother  tongue  in  their 


24  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

enunciation  of  English,  this  purity  of  dialect  in  the  two  girls 
was  to  be  ascribed  to  the  fact  that  their  father  was  an  Eng 
lishman  by  birth ;  their  mother  an  American  of  purely 
English  origin,  though  named  after  a  Dutch  god-mother  ; 
and  the  head  of  the  school  in  which  they  had  now  been 
three  years,  was  a  native  of  London,  and  a  lady  by  habits 
and  education. 

"  Now,  Maud,"  cried  the  captain,  after  he  had  kissed  the 
forehead,  eyes  and  cheeks  of  his  smiling  little  favourite  — 
"  Now,  Maud,  I  will  set  you  to  guess  what  good  news  I 
have  for  you  and  Beulah." 

"  You  and  mother  do  n't  mean  to  go  to  that  bad  Beaver 
.Manor  this  summer,  as  some  call  the  ugly  pond?"  answered 
the  child,  quick  as  lightning. 

"  That  is  kind  of  you,  my  darling ;  more  kind  than  pru 
dent  ;  but  you  are  not  right." 

"  Try  Beulah,  now,"  interrupted  the  mother,  who,  while 
she  too  doted  on  her  youngest  child,  had  an  increasing 
respect  for  the  greater  solidity  and  better  judgment  of  her 
sister  :  "  let  us  hear  Beulah's  guess." 

"  It  is  something  about  my  brother,  I  know  by  mother's 
eyes,"  answered  the  eldest  girl,  looking  inquiringly  into 
Mrs.  Willoughby's  face. 

"  Oh !  yes,"  cried  Maud,  beginning  to  jump  about  the 
room,  until  she  ended  her  saltations  in  her  father's  arms — • 
"  Bob  has  got  his  commission  ! — I  know  it  all  well  enough, 
now — I  would  not  thank  you  to  tell  me — I  know  it  all  now — 
dear  Bob,  how  he  will  laugh !  and  how  happy  I  am !" 

"  Is  it  so,  mother  ?"  asked  Beulah,  anxiously,  and  without 
even  a  smile. 

"  Maud  is  right ;  Bob  is  an  ensign — or,  will  be  one,  in  a 
day  or  two.  You  do  not  seem  pleased,  my  child  ?" 

"  I  wish  Robert  were  not  a  soldier,  mother.  Now  he  will 
be  always  away,  and  we  shall  never  see  him ;  then  he  may 
be  obliged  to  fight,  and  who  knows  how  unhappy  it  may 
make  him  ?" 

Beulah  thought  more  of  her  brother  than  she  did  of  her 
self;  and,  sooth  to  say,  her  mother  had  many  of  the  child's 
misgivings.  With  Maud  it  was  altogether  different:  she 
saw  only  the  bright  side  of  the  picture ;  Bob  gay  and  bril 
liant,  his  face  covered  with  smiles,  his  appearance  admired, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  25 

himself,  and   of  course  his   sisters,   happy.     Captain  Wil- 
.  >\  sympathi/'-d  altogether  with  his  p«-r.     Accustomed 
l«i  arms,  h  that  a  career  in  \\liidi  he  had  partially 

iailed  —  this  he  did  not  conceal  from  himself  or  his  wile  — 
that  this  same  career  had  opened,  as  he  trusted,  with  better 
.1  his  only  son.  He  covered  Maud  with  kisses, 
and  then  rushed  from  the  house,  finding  his  heart  too  full 
to  run  the  risk  of  being  unmanned  in  the  presence  of  fe 
males. 

A  week  later,  availing  themselves  of  one  of  the  last  falls 
of  snow  of  the  season,  captain  Willoughby  and  his  w; 
Albany  for  the  Knoll.  The  leave-taking  was  tender,  and 
to  the  parents  bitter;  though  after  all,  it  was  known  that 
little  more  than  a  hundred  miles  would  separate  them  from 
their  beloved  daughters.  Fifty  of  these  miles,  however, 
were  absolutely  wilderness ;  and  to  achieve  them,  quite  a 
hundred  of  tangled  forest,  or  of  difficult  navigation,  were 
to  be  passed.  The  communications  would  be  at  considera 
ble  intervals,  and  difficult.  Still  they  might  be  held,  and 
the  anxious  mother  left  many  injunctions  with  Mrs. Waring, 
the  head  of  the  school,  in  relation  to  the  health  of  her  daugh 
ters,  and  the  manner  in  which  she  was  to  be  sent  for,  in  the 
1  of  any  serious  illness. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  had  often  overcome,  as  she  fancied,  the 
difficulties  of  a  wilderness,  in  the  company  of  her  husband. 
It  is  the  fashion  highly  to  extol  Napoleon's  passage  of  the 
Alps,  simply  in  reference  to  its  physical  obstacles.  There 
:  was  a  brigade  moved  twenty-four  hours  into  the  Ame 
rican  wilds,  that  had  not  greater  embarrassments  of  this 
nature  to  overcome,  unless  in  those  eases  in  which  favour 
able  river  navigation  has  offered  its  facilities.  Still,  time 
and  necessity  had  made  a  sort  of  military  ways  to  all  the 
more  important  frontier  points  occupied  by  the  British  gar 
risons,  and  the  experience  of  Mrs.  Willoughby  had  not 
hitherto  been  of  the  severe  character  of  that  she  was  now 
compelled  to  undergo. 

The  first  fifty  miles  were  passed  over  in  a  sleigh,  in  a 
few  hours,  and  with  little  or  no  personal  fatigue.  This 
brought  the  travellers  to  a  Dutch  inn  on  the  Mohawk,  where 
the  captain  had  often  made  his  halts,  and  whither  he  had, 
from  time  to  time,  sent  his  advanced  parties  in  the  course 

VOL.  I.— 3 




26  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

of  the  winter  and  spring.  Here  a  jumper  was  found  pre 
pared  to  receive  Mrs.  Willoughby ;  and  the  horse  being  led 
by  the  captain  himself,  a  passage  through  the  forest  was 
effected  as  far  as  the  head  of  the  Otsego.  The  distance  be 
ing  about  twelve  miles,  it  required  two  days  for  its  perform 
ance.  As  the  settlements  extended  south  from  the  Mohawk 
a  few  miles,  the  first  night  was  passed  in  a  log  cabin,  on 
the  extreme  verge  of  civilization,  if  civilization  it  could  be 
called,  and  the  remaining  eight  miles  were  got  over  in  the 
course  of  the  succeeding  day.  This  was  more  than  would 
probably  have  been  achieved  in  the  virgin  forest,  and  under 
the  circumstances,  had  not  so  many  of  the  captain's  people 
passed  over  the  same  ground,  going  and  returning,  thereby 
learning  how  to  avoid  the  greatest  difficulties  of  the  route, 
and  here  and  there  constructing  a  rude  bridge.  They  had 
also  blazed  the  trees,  shortening  the  road  by  pointing  out 
its  true  direction. 

At  the  head  of  the  Otsego,  our  adventurers  were  fairly  in 
the  wilderness.  Huts  had  been  built  to  receive  the  travel 
lers,  and  here  the  whole  party  assembled,  in  readiness  to 
make  a  fresh  start  in  company.  It  consisted  of  more  than 
a  dozen  persons,  in  all ;  the  black  domestics  of  the  family 
being  present,  as  well  as  several  mechanics  whom  Captain 
Willoughby  had  employed  to  carry  on  his  improvements. 
The  men  sent  in  advance  had  not.  been  idle,  any  more  than 
those  left  at  the  Hutted  Knoll.  They  had  built  three  or 
four  skiffs,  one  small  batteau,  and  a  couple  of  canoes. 
These  were  all  in  the  water,  in  waiting  for  the  disappearance 
of  the  ice  ;  which  was  now  reduced  to  a  mass  of  stalactites 
in  form,  greenish  and  sombre  in  hue,  as  they  floated  in  a  body, 
but  clear  and  bright  when  separated  and  exposed  to  the  sun. 
The  south  winds  began  to  prevail,  and  the  shore  was  glit 
tering  with  the  fast-melting  piles  of  the  frozen  fluid,  though 
it  would  have  been  vain  yet  to  attempt  a  passage  through  it. 

The  Otsego  is  a  sheet  that  we  have  taken  more  than  one 
occasion  to  describe,  and  the  picture  it  then  presented, 
amidst  its  frame  of  mountains,  will  readily  be  imagined  by 
most  of  our  readers.  In  1765,  no  sign  of  a  settlement  was 
visible  on  its  shores  ;  few  of  the  grants  of  land  in  that 
vicinity  extending  back  so  far.  Still  the  spot  began  to  be 
known ;  and  hunters  had  been  in  the  habit  of  frequenting 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  ~7 

its  bosom  and  its  shores,  for  the  last  twenty  years  or  more. 
Nut  .  of  their  presence,  however,  was  to  b«- 

from  the  huts  of  the  captain  ;  but  Mrs.  U'illoughby  assured 
her  husband,  as  she  stood  leaning  on  his  arm,  the  morning 
after  her  arrival,  that  never  beiure  had  she  gazed  on  so 
eloquent,  and  yd  MJ  pleasing  a  picture  of  solitude  as  that 
which  lay  spread  before  her  * 

"  There  is   something  encouraging  and  soothing  in  this 

bland  south  wind,  too,"  she  added,  "  which  seems  to  pr<>- 

iiai  wr   shall   meet  with   a    beneficent  nature,  in   the 

spot  to  which  we  are  going.     The   south  airs  of  spring,  to 

me  arc  always  filled  with  promise." 

"  And   justly,   love ;  for   they  are   the    harbingers    of  a 

renewed   vegetation.     If  the  wind  increase,  as  I  think  it 

may,  we  shall  see  this  chilling  sheet  of  ice  succeeded  by  the 

mom  cheerful  view  of  water.     It  is   in  this  way,  that  all 

:al;es  open  their  bosoms  in  April." 

Captain  \\  illoughby  did  not  know  it,  while  speaking,  but, 
at  that  moment,  quite  two  miles  of  tiie  lower,  or  southern 
end  of  the  lake,  was  clear,  and  the  opening  giving  a  sweep 
to  the  breeze,  the  latter  was  already  driving  the  sheets  of 
ice  before  it,  towards  the  head,  at  a  rate  of  quite  a  mile  in 
the  hour.  Just  then,  an  Irishman,  named  Michael  O'l ; 
who  had  recently  arrived  in  America,  and  whom  the  cap 
tain  had  hired  as  a  servant  of  all  work,  came  rushing  up  to 
iiis  master,  and  opened  his  teeming  thoughts,  with  an 
earnestness  of  manner,  and  a  confusion  of  rhetoric,  that 
were  equally  characteristic  of  the  man  and  of  a  portion  of 
his  nation. 

"  Is  it  journeying  south,  or  to  the  other  end  of  this  bit  of 
wather,  or  ice,  that  yer  honour  is  thinking  of?"  he  cried. 
.1,  and  there'll  be  room  for  us  all,  and  to  spare  ;  lor 
divil  a  bir-r-d  will  be  left  in  that  quarter  by  night,  or 
nent  twelve  o'clock  either,  calculating  by  the  clock,  if  one 
had  such  a  thing ;  as  a  body  might  say." 

'his  was  said  not  only  vehemently,  but  with  an  accent 
that  defies  imitation  with  the  pen,  Mrs.  Willoughbv  was 
quite  at  a  loss  to  get  a  clue  to  the  idea  ;  but,  her  husband, 
more  accustomed  to  men  of  Mike's  class,  was  sufliciently 
lucky  to  comprehend  what  li<-  was  at. 

"  You   mean   the  pigeons,  Mike,  I  suppose,"  the  captain 


28  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

answered,  good-humouredly.  "  There  are  certainly  a 
goodly  number  of  them  ;  and  I  dare  say  our  hunters  will 
bring  us  in  some,  for  dinner.  It  is  a  certain  sign  that  the 
winter  is  gone,  when  birds  and  beasts  follow  their  instincts, 
in  this  manner.  Where  are  you  from,  Mike?" 

"  County  Leitrim,  yer  honour,"  answered  the  other, 
touching  his  cap. 

**  Ay,  that  one  may  guess,"  said  the  captain,  smiling , 
"  but  where  last  ?" 

"  From  looking  at  the  bir-r-ds,  sir  ! — Och  !  It 's  a  sight 
that  will  do  madam  good,  and  contains  a  sartainty  there  '11 
be  room  enough  made  for  us,  where  all  these  cr'atures  came 
from.  I  'm  thinking,  yer  honour,  if  we  don't  ate  them, 
they  '11  be  wanting  to  ate  us.  What  a  power  of  them,  count 
ing  big  and  little  ;  though  they  're  all  of  a  size,  just  as  much 
as  if  they  had  flown  through  a  hole  made  on  purpose  to 
kape  them  down  to  a  convanient  bigness,  in  body  and 
feathers." 

"  Such  a  flight  of  pigeons  in  Ireland,  would  make  a  sen 
sation,  Mike,"  observed  the  captain,  willing  to  amuse  his 
wife,  by  drawing  out  the  County  Leitrim-man,  a  little. 

"  It  would  make  a  dinner,  yer  honour,  for  every  mother's 
son  of  'em,  counting  the  gur-r-rls,  in  the  bargain  !  Such  a 
power  of  bir-r-ds,  would  knock  down  'praties,  in  a  wonder 
ful  degree,  and  make  even  butthermilk  chape  and  plenthiful. 
Will  it  be  always  such  abundance  with  us,  down  at  the 
Huts,  yer  honour  ?  or  is  this  sight  only  a  delusion  to  fill  us 
with  hopes  that 's  never  to  be  satisfied  ?" 

"  Pigeons  are  seldom  wanting  in  this,  country,  Mike,  in 
the  spring  and  autumn ;  though  we  have  both  birds  and 
beasts,  in  plenty,  that  are  preferable  for  food." 

"  Will  it  be  plentthier  than  this  ? — Well,  it 's  enough  to 
destroy  human  appetite,  the  sight  of  'em  !  I  'd  give  the 
half  joe  I  lost  among  them  blackguards  in  Albany,  at  their 
Pauss,  as  they  calls  it,  jist  to  let  my  sisther's  childer  have 
their  supper  out  of  one  of  these  flocks,  such  as  they  are, 
betther  or  no  betther.  Och  !  its  pleasant  to  think  of  them 
childer  having  their  will,  for  once,  on  such  a  power  of 
wild,  savage  bir-r-ds  !" 

Captain  Willoughby  smiled  at  this  proof  of  naivete  in  his 
new  domestic,  and  then  led  his  wife  back  to  the  hut ;  it 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  29 

being  time  to  make  some  fresh  dispositions  for  the  approach. 
ing  movement.  l»y  noon,  u  became  apparent  to  those  who 
were  waiting  such  an  event,  that  the  lake  was  nooning; 
and,  about  the  same  time,  one  of  the  hunters  came  in  from 
a  neighbouring  mountain,  and  reported  that  he  had  seen 
clear  water,  as  near  their  position  as  three  or  four  miles. 
J!y  this  time  it  was  blowing  fresh,  and  the  wind,  having  a 
clear  rake,  drove  up  the  honeycomb-looking  sheet  before  it, 
as  the  scraper  accumulates  snow.  When  the  sun  set,  the 
whole  north  shore  was  white  with  piles  of  glittering  icicles; 
while  the  bosom  of  the  Otsego,  no  longer  disturbed  by  the 
wind,  resembled  a  placid  mirror. 

Karly  on  the  following  morning,  the  whole  party  em- 
b-.rked.  There  was  no  wind,  and  men  were  placed  at  the 
paddles  and  the  oars.  Care  was  taken,  on  quitting  the 
hots,  to  close  their  doors  and  shutters ;  for  they  were  to  be 
taverns  to  cover  the  heads  of  many  a  traveller,  in  the  fre 
quent  journeys  that  were  likely  to  be  made,  between  the 
Knoll  and  the  settlements.  These  stations,  then,  were  of 
the  last  importance,  and  a  frontier-man  always  had  the  samo 
regard  for  them,  that  the  mountaineer  of  the  Alps  has  for 
his  "  refuge." 

The  passage  down  the  Otsego  was  the  easiest  and  most 
agreeable  portion  of  the  whole  journey.  The  day  was 
pleasant,  and  the  oarsmen  vigorous,  if  not  very  skilful,  ren 
dering  the  movement  rapid,  and  sufficiently  direct.  JJut 
one  drawback  occurred  to  the  prosperity  of  the  voyage. 
Among  the  labourers  hired  by  the  captain,  was  a  Connecti 
cut  man,  of  the  name  of  Joel  Strides,  between  whom  and  tho 
County  Leitrim-man,  there  had  early  commenced  a  warfare 
of  tricks  and  petty  annoyances ;  a  warfare  that  was  per- 
frctly  defensive  on  the  part  of  O'Hoarn,  who  did  little  more, 
in  the  way  of  retort,  than  comment  on  the  long,  lank,  shape 
less  figure,  and  meagre  countenance  of  his  enemy.  Joel 
had  not  been  seen  to  smile,  since  he  engaged  with  the  cap 
tain  ;  though  three  times  had  he  lan-jln1*!  oufriirht,  and  eaeh 
time  at  the  occurrence  of  some  mishap  to  MiHiae!  ()*  fleam, 
the  fruit  of  one  of  his  own  schemes  of  annoyance. 

On  the  present  occasion,  Joel,  who   had  the  distribution 
of  such  duty,  placed  Mike  in  a  skiff,  by  himself,  flattering 
the  poor  fellow  with  the  credit  he  would  achieve,  by  rowing 
3* 


30  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

a  boat  to  the  foot  of  the  lake,  without  assistance.     lie  might 
as  well  have  asked  Mike  to  walk  to  the  outlet  on  the  surface 
of  the  water  !     This  arrangement  proceeded  from  an  innate 
love  of  mischief  in  Joel,  who  had  much  of  the  quiet  waggery, 
blended  with  many  of  the  bad  qualities   of  the  men  of  his 
peculiar  class.     A  narrow  and  conceited  selfishness  lay  at 
the  root  of  the  larger  portion   of  this  man's  faults.     As  a 
physical    being,   he  was  a  perfect  labour-saving  machine, 
himself;  bringing  all  the  resources  of  a  naturally  quick  and 
acute  mind  to  bear  on  this  one  end,  never  doing  anything 
that  required  a  particle  more  than  the  exertion  and  strength 
that   were  absolutely   necessary  to  effect   his  object.     He 
rowed  the  skiff  in  which  the  captain  and  his  wife  had  em 
barked,  with  his  own  hands  ;  and,  previously  to  starting, 
he  had  selected  the  best  sculls  from  the  other  boats,  had 
fitted  his  tvvhart  with  the  closest  attention  to  his  own  ease, 
and  had  placed  a  stretcher  for  his  feet,  with  an  intelligence 
and  knowledge  of  mechanics,  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  Whitehall  waterman.     This  much  proceeded  from  the 
predominating  principle  of  his  nature,  which  was,  always  to 
have  an  eye  on  the  interests  of  Joel  Strides  ;  though  the 
effect  happened,  in  this  instance,  to  be  beneficial  to  those  he 
served. 

Michael  O'Hearn,  on  the  contrary,  thought  only  of  the 
end  ;  and  this  so  intensely,  not  to  so  say  vehemently,  as 
generally  to  overlook  the  means.  Frank,  generous,  self- 
devoted,  and  withal  accustomed  to  get  most  things  wrong- 
end-foremost,  he  usually  threw  away  twice  the  same  labour, 
in  effecting  a  given  purpose,  that  was  expended  by  the 
Yankee ;  doing  the  thing  worse,  too,  besides  losing  twice 
the  time.  He  never  paused  to  think  of  this,  however. 
The  masther's  boat  was  to  be  rowed  to  the  other  end  of  the 
lake,  and,  though  he  had  never  rowed  a  boat  an  inch  in  his 
life,  he  was  ready  and  willing  to  undertake  the  job.  "  If  a 
certain  quantity  of  work  will  not  do  it,"  thought  Mike,  "  I'll 
try  as  much  ag'in  ;  and  the  divil  is  in  it,  if  that  won't  sarve 
the  purpose  of  that  little  bit  of  a  job." 

Under  such  circumstances  the  party  started.  Most  of 
the  skiffs  and  canoes  went  off  half  an  hour  before  Mrs. 
Willoughby  was  ready,  and  Joel  managed  to  keep  Mike  for 
the  last,  under  the  pretence  of  wishing  his  aid  in  loading  his 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  31 

own  boat,  with  the  bod  and  bidding  from  the  hut.  All  was 
ready,  at  length,  and  taking  his  scat,  with  a  sort  of  quiet 
delilxM-ilion,  Joel  said,  in  his  drawling  way,  "  You'll  follow 
.id  ymi  can't  be  a  thousand  miles  out  of  the  way." 
Th--n  he  ] Hilled  from  the  shoiv  with  a  quiet,  steady  stroke 
of  the  sculls,  that  sent  the  skiiF  ahead  with  great  rapidity, 
though  with  much  ease  to  himself. 

Michael  O'l  learn  stood  looking  at  the  retiring  skill',  in 
silent  admiration,  for  two  or  three  minutes.  He  was  quite 
alone  ;  for  all  the  other  boats  were  already  two  or  throe 
miles  on  their  way,  and  distance  already  prevented  him 
from  serini;  the  mischief  that  was  lurking  in  Joel's  hypo 
critical  eyes. 

"  Follow  yees  /"  soliloquized  Mike — "  The  divil  burn  ye, 
for  a  guessing  yankcc  as  ye  ar' — how  am  I  to  follow  with 
such  legs  as  the  likes  of  these  ?  If  it  was  n't  for  the  masther 
and  the  missus,  ra'al  jontlemen  and  ladies  they  be,  I'd  turn 
my  back  on  ye,  in  the  desert,  and  let  ye  find  that  Beaver 
estate,  in  ycr  own  disagreeable  company.  Ha!  —  well,  I 
must  thry,  and  if  the  boat  wont  go,  it  '11  be  no  fault  of  the 
man  that  has  a  good  disposition  to  make  it." 

Mike  now  took  his  seat  on  a  board  that  lay  across  tho 
gunwale  of  the  skiff  at  a  most  inconvenient  height,  placed 
two  sculls  in  the  water,  one  of  which  was  six  inches  longer 
than  the  other,  made  a  desperate  effort,  and  got  his  craft 
fairly  afloat.  Now,  Michael  O'Hearn  was  not  left-handed, 
and,  as  usually  happens  with  such  men,  the  inequality  be- 
twi  en  the  two  limbs  was  quite  marked.  By  a  sinister  acci 
dent,  too,  it  happened  that  the  longest  oar  got  into  tho 
strongest  hand,  and  there  it  would  have  staid  to  the  end  of 
time,  before  Mike  would  think  of  changing  it,  on  that  ac 
count.  Joel,  alone,  sat  with  his  face  towards  the  head  of 
the  lake,  and  he  alone  could  see  the  dilemma  in  which  the 
county  Leitrim-man  was  placed.  Neither  the  captain  nor 
his  wife  thought  of  looking  behind,  and  the  yankcc  had  all 
the  fun  to  himself.  As  for  Mike,  he  succeeded  in  getting  a 
few  rods  from  the  land,  when  the  strong  arm  and  the  longer 
lever  assorting  their  superiority,  the  skiff  began  to  in-line; 
to  the  westward.  So  intense,  however,  was  the  poor  fel 
low's  zeal,  that  he  did  not  discover  the  change  in  hiscourso 
until  he  had  so  far  turned  as  to  give  him  a  glimpse  of  his 


32  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

retiring  master ;  then  he  inferred  that  all  was  right,  and 
pulled  more  leisurely.  The  result  was,  that  in  about  ten 
minutes,  Mike  was  stopped  by  the  land,  the  boat  touching 
the  north  shore  again,  two  or  three  rods  from  the  very  point 
whence  it  had  started.  The  honest  fellow  got  up,  looked 
around  him,  scratched  his  head,  gazed  wistfully  after  the 
fast-receding  boat  of  his  master,  and  broke  out  in  another 
soliloquy. 

"  Bad  luck  to  them  that  made  ye,  ye  one-sided  thing !" 
he  said,  shaking  his  head  reproachfully  at  the  skiff:  "there's 
liberty  for  ye  to  do  as  ye  ought,  and  ye  '11  not  be  doing  it, 
just  out  of  contrairincss.  Why  the  divil  can  't  ye  do  like 
the  other  skiffs,  and  go  where  ye  're  wanted,  on  the  road  to 
wards  thim  beavers  1  Och,  ye  '11  be  sorry  for  this,  when 
ye 're  left  behind,  out  of  sight!" 

Then  it  flashed  on  Mike's  mind  that  possibly  some  arti 
cle  had  been  left  in  the  hut,  and  the  skiff  had  come  back  to 
look  after  it ;  so,  up  he  ran  to  the  captain's  deserted  lodge, 
entered  it,  was  lost  to  view  for  a  minute,  then  came  in  sight 
again,  scratching  his  head,  and  renewing  his  muttering — 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  divil  a  thing  can  I  see,  and  it  must  be 
pure  conframness  !  Perhaps  the  baste  will  behave  betther 
next  time,  so  I  '11  thry  it  ag'in,  and  give  it  an  occasion. 
Barring  obstinacy,  't  is  as  good-lookin'  a  skiff  as  the  best  of 
them." 

Mike  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  gave  the  skiff  as  fair 
an  opportunity  of  behaving  itself  as  was  ever  offered  to  a 
boat.  Seven  times  did  he  quit  the  shore,  and  as  often  return 
to  it,  gradually  working  his  way  towards  the  western  shore, 
and  slightly  down  the  lake.  In  this  mariner,  Mike  at  length 
got  himself  so  far  on  the  side  of  the  lake,  as  to  present  a 
barrier  of  land  to  the  evil  disposition  of  his  skiff  to  incline 
to  the  westward.  It  could  go  no  longer  in  that  direction, 
at  least. 

"  Divil  burn  ye,"  the  honest  fellow  cried,  the  perspiration 
rolling  down  his  face;  "I  think  ye '11  be  satisfied  without 
walking  out  into  the  forest,  where  I  wish  ye  war'  with  all 
my  heart,  amang  the  threes  that  made  ye  !  Now,  I  '11  see 
if  yer  con^rairy  enough  to  run  up  a  hill." 

Mike  next  essayed  to  pull  along  the  shore,  in  the  hope 
that  the  sight  of  the  land,  and  of  the  overhanging  pines  and 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  83 

hemlocks,  would  cure  the  boat's  propensity  to  turn  in  that 
direction.  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  his  expectations 
wt-iv  disappointed,  and  lie  finally  was  reduced  to  getting  out 
into  the  water,  cool  as  was  tin-  \\vnther,  and  of  wading  along 
tin:  .shoiv,  dragging  the  hoat  alter  him.  All  this  Joel  saw 
before  he  passed  out  of  sight,  hut  no  movement  of  his  mus 
cles  let  the  eaptain  into  the  secret  of  the  poor  Irishman's 
strait. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  rest  of  the  flotilla,  or  brigade  of 
boats,  as  the  captain  termed  them,  went  prosperously  on 
their  way,  going  from  one  end  of  the  lake  to  the  other,  in 
the  course  of  three  hours.  As  one  of  the  party  had  been 
over  the  route  several  times  already,  there  was  no  hesitation 
on  the  subject  of  the  point  to  which  the  boats  were  to  pro- 
ceed.  They  all  touched  the  shore  near  the  stone  that  is  now 
called  the  "  Otsego  Rock,"  beneath  a  steep  wooded  bank, 
and  quite  near  to  the  place  where  the  Susquehannah  glanced 
out  of  the  lake,  in  a  swift  current,  beneath  a  high-arched 
tracery  of  branches  that  were  not  yet  clothed  with  leaves. 

Here  the  question  was  put  as  to  what  had  become  of 
Mike.  His  skiff  was  nowhere  visible,  and  the  captain  felt 
the  necessity  of  having  him  looked  for,  before  he  pro< 
any  further.  After  a  short  consultation,  a  boat  manned  by 
two  negroes,  father  and  son,  named  Pliny  the  elder,  and 
Pliny  the  younger,  or,  in  common  parlance,  "old  Plin" 
and  "  young  Plin,"  was  sent  back  along  the  west-shore  to 
hunt  him  up.  Of  course,  a  hut  was  immediately  prepared 
for  the  reception  of  Mrs.  Willoughby,  upon  the  plain  that 
stretches  across  the  valley,  at  this  point.  This  was  on  the 
site  of  the  present  village  of  Cooperstown,  but  just  twenty 
years  anterior  to  the  commencement  of  the  pretty  little  shire 
town  that  now  exists  on  the  spot. 

It  was  night  ere  the  two  Plinics  appeared  towing  Mike, 
as  their  great  namesakes  of  antiquity  mi^ht  have  brought 
in  a  Carthaginian  galley,  in  triumph.  The  county  Leitrim- 
man  had  made  his  way  with  excessive  toil  about  a  league 
ere  he  was  met,  and  glad  enough  was  he  to  see  his  succour 
approach.  In  that  day,  the  strong  antipathy  which  now 
exists  between  the  black  and  the  emigrant  Irishman  was 
unknown,  the  competition  for  household  service  commencing 
more  than  half  a  century  later.  Still,  as  the  negro  loved 


34  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

fun  constitutionally,  and  Pliny  the  younger  was  somewhat 
of  a  wag,  Mike  did  not  entirely  escape,  scot-free. 

"Why  you  drag  'im  like  ox,  Irish  Mike?"  cried  the 
younger  negro — "  why  you  no  row  'im  like  other  folk  ?" 

"  Ah — you're  as  bad  as  the  rest  of 'em,"  growled  Mike. 
"  They  tould  me  Ameriky  was  a  mighty  warm  country, 
and  war-r-m  I  find  it,  sure  enough,  though  the  wather  isn't 
as  warm  as  good  whiskey.  Come,  ye  black  divils,  and  see 
if  ye  can  coax  this  con^miry  cr'athure  to  do  as  a  person 
wants." 

The  negroes  soon  had  Mike  in  tow,  and  then  they  went 
down  the  lake  merrily,  laughing  and  cracking  their  jokes, 
at  the  Irishman's  expense,  after  the  fashion  of  their  race. 
It  was  fortunate  for  the  Leitrim-man  that  he  was  accustom 
ed  to  ditching,  though  it  may  be  questioned  if  the  pores  of 
his  body  closed  again  that  day,  so  very  effectually  had  they 
been  opened.  When  he  rejoined  his  master,  not  a  syllable 
was  said  of  the  mishap,  Joel  having  the  prudence  to  keep 
his  own  secret,  and  even  joining  Mike  in  denouncing  the 
bad  qualities  of  the  boat.  We  will  only  add  here,  that  a 
little  calculation  entered  into  this  trick,  Joel  perceiving  that 
Mike  was  a  favourite,  and  wishing  to  bring  him  into  dis 
credit. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  captain  sent  the  negroes  and 
Mike  down  the  Susquehannah  a  mile,  to  clear  away  some 
flood-wood,  of  which  one  of  the  hunters  had  brought  in  a 
report  the  preceding  day.  Two  hours  later,  the  boats  left 
the  shore,  and  began  to  float  downward  with  the  current, 
following  the  direction  of  a  stream  that  has  obtained  its 
name  from  its  sinuosities. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boats  reached  the  flood-wood,  where, 
to  Joel's  great  amusement,  Mike  and  the  negroes,  the  latter 
having  little  more  calculation  than  the  former,  had  com 
menced  their  operations  on  the  upper  side  of  the  raft,  piling 
the  logs  on  one  another,  with  a  view  to  make  a  passage 
through  the  centre.  Of  course,  there  was  a  halt,  the  females 
landing.  Captain  Willoughby  now  cast  an  eye  round  him 
in  hesitation,  when  a  knowing  look  from  Joel  caught  his 
attention. 

"  This  does  not  seem  to  be  right,"  he  said — "  cannot  we 
better  it  a  little?" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  35 

"  It 's  right  wrong,  captain,"  answered  Joel,  laughing  liko 
one  who  enjoyed  other  people's  ignorance.  "  A  sensible 
crittur'  would  begin  the  work  on  such  a  job,  at  the  lower 
side  of  the  raft." 

"  Take  the  direction,  and  order  things  to  suit  yourself." 

This  was  just  what  Joel  liked.  Head-work  before  all 
other  work  for  him,  and  he  set  about  the  duty  authorita 
tively  and  with  promptitude.  Ailer  rating  the  negroes 
roundly  for  their  stupidity,  and  laying  it  on  Mike  without 
much  delicacy  of  thought  or  diction,  over  the  shoulders  of 
the  two  blacks,  he  mustered  his  forces,  and  began  to  clear 
the  channel  with  intelligence  and  readiness. 

Going  to  the  lower  side  of  the  jammed  flood-wood,  he 
soon  succeeded  in  loosening  one  or  two  trees,  which  floated 
away,  making  room  for  others  to  follow.  By  these  means 
a  passage  was  effected  in  half  an  hour,  Joel  having  the  pru 
dence  to  set  no  more  timber  in  motion  than  was  necessary 
to  his  purpose,  lest  it  might  choke  the  stream  below.  In 
this  manner  the  party  got  through,  and,  the  river  being  high 
at  that  season,  by  night  the  travellers  were  half-way  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Unadilla.  The  next  evening  they  encamped 
at  the  junction  of  the  two  streams,  making  their  prepara 
tions  to  ascend  the  latter  the  following  morning. 

The  toil  of  the  ascent,  however,  did  not  commence,  until 
the  boats  entered  what  was  called  the  creek,  or  the  small 
tributary  of  the  Unadilla,  on  which  the  beavers  had  erected 
their  works,  and  which  ran  through  the  "  Manor."  Here, 
indeed,  the  progress  was  slow  and  laborious,  the  rapidity 
of  the  current  and  the  shallowness  of  the  water  rendering 
every  foot  gained  a  work  of  exertion  and  pain.  Perseve 
rance  and  skill,  notwithstanding,  prevailed ;  all  the  boats 
reaching  the  foot  of  the  rapids,  or  straggling  falls,  on  which 
the  captain  had  built  his  mills,  about  an  hour  before  the  sun 
disappeared.  Here,  of  course,  the  boats  were  left,  a  rude 
road  having  been  cut,  by  means  of  which  the  freights  were 
transported  on  a  sledge  the  remainder  of  the  distance. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  this  trying  day,  Joel  had  not  only 
worked  head-work,  but  he  had  actually  exerted  himself 
with  his  body.  As  for  Mike,  never  before  had  he  male 
such  desperate  efforts.  He  felt  all  the  disgrace  of  his  ad 
venture  on  the  lake,  and  was  disposed  to  wipe  it  out  by  his 


36  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

exploits  on  the  rivers.  Thus  Mike  was  ever  loyal  to  his 
employer.  He  had  sold  his  flesh  and  blood  for  money,  and 
a  man  of  his  conscience  was  inclined  to  give  a  fair  penny's- 
worth.  The  tractable  manner  in  which  the  boat  had  floated 
down  the  river,  it  is  true,  caused  him  some  surprise,  as  was 
shown  in  his  remark  to  the  younger  Pliny,  on  landing. 

"  This  is  a  curious  boat,  afther  all,"  said  Pat.  "  One 
time  it 's  all  contrariness,  and  then  ag'in  it 's  as  obliging  as 
one's  own  mother.  It  followed  the  day  all 's  one  like  a 
puppy  dog,  while  yon  on  the  big  wather  there  was  no  more 
dhrimng  it  than  a  hog.  Och  !  it 's  a  faimale  boat,  by  its 
whims !" 


CHAPTER    III. 

"  He  sleeps  forgetful  of  his  once  bright  flame ; 
He  has  no  feeling  of  the  glory  gone  ; 
He  has  no  eye  to  catch  the  mounting  flame 
That  once  in  transport  drew  him  on  ; 
He  lies  in  dull  oblivious  dreams,  nor  cares 
Who  the  wreathed  laurel  bears." 

PERCIVAL. 

THE  appearance  of  a  place  in  which  the  remainder  of 
one's  life  is  to  be  past  is  always  noted  with  interest  on  a 
first  visit.  Thus  it  was  that  Mrs.  Willoughby  had  been 
observant  and  silent  from  the  moment  the  captain  informed 
her  that  they  had  passed  the  line  of  his  estate,  and  were 
approaching  the  spot  where  they  were  to  dwell.  The  stream 
was  so  small,  and  the  girding  of  the  forest  so  close,  that 
there  was  little  range  for  the  sight ;  but  the  anxious  wife 
and  mother  could  perceive  that  the  hills  drew  together,  at 
this  point,  the  valley  narrowing  essentially,  that  rocks  began 
to  appear  in  the  bed  of  the  river,  and  that  the  growth  of  the 
timber  indicated  fertility  and  a  generous  soil. 

When  the  boat  stopped,  the  little  stream  came  brawling 
down  a  ragged  declivity,  and  a  mill,  one  so  arranged  as  to 
grind  and  saw,  both  in  a  very  small  way,  however,  gave 
the  first  signs  of  civilization  she  had  beheld  since  quitting 
the  last  hut  near  the  Mohawk.  After  issuing  a  few  orders, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  37 

the  captain  drew  his  wife's  arm  through  his  own,  and  hur- 
ried  up  the  ascent,  with  an  eagerness  that  was  almost 
boyish,  to  show  her  what  had  been  done  towards  the  im 
provement  of  the  "  Knoll."  There  is  a  pleasure  in  diving 
into  a  virgin  forest  and  commencing  the  labours  of  civiliza 
tion,  that  has  no  exact  parallel  in  any  other  human  occu 
pation.  That  of  building,  or  of  laying  out  grounds,  has 
certainly  some  resemblance  to  it,  but  it  is  a  resemblance  so 
faint  and  distant  as  scarcely  to  liken  the  enjoyment  each 
produces.  The  former  approaches  nearer  to  the  feeling  of 
creating,  and  is  far  more  pregnant  with  anticipations  and 
hopes,  though  its  first  effects  are  seldom  agreeable,  and  are 
sometimes  nearly  hideous.  Our  captain,  however,  had 
escaped  most  of  these  last  consequences,  by  possessing  the 
advantage  of  having  a  clearing1,  without  going  through  the 
usual  processes  of  chopping  and  burning;  the  first  of  which 
leaves  the  earth  dotted,  for  many  years,  with  unsightly 
stumps,  while  the  rains  and  snows  do  not  wash  out  the  hues 
of  the  last  for  several  seasons. 

An  exclamation  betrayed  the  pleasure  with  which  Mrs. 
Willoughby  got  her  first  glimpse  of  the  drained  pond.  It 
was  when  she  had  clambered  to  the  point  of  the  rocks, 
where  the  stream  began  to  tumble  downward  into  the  valley 
below.  A  year  had  done  a  vast  deal  for  the  place.  The 
few  stumps  and  stubs  which  had  disfigured  the  basin  when 
it  was  first  laid  bare,  had  all  been  drawn  by  oxen,  and 
burned.  This  left  the  entire  surface  of  the  four  hundred 
acres  smooth  and  fit  for  the  plough.  The  soil  was  the  de 
posit  of  centuries,  and  the  inclination,  from  the  woods  to 
the  stream,  was  scarcely  perceptible  to  the  eye.  In  fact,  it 
was  barely  sufficient  to  drain  the  drippings  of  the  winter's 
snows.  The  form  of  the  area  was  a  little  irregular;  just 
enough  so  to  be  picturesque ;  while  the  inequalities  were 
surprisingly  few  and  trifling.  In  a  word,  nature  had  formed 
just  such  a  spot  as  delights  the  husbandman's  heart,  and 
placed  it  beneath  a  sun  which,  while  its  fierceness  is  relieved 
by  winters  of  frost  and  snow,  had  a  power  to  bring  out  all 
its  latent  resources. 

Trees  had  been  felled  around  the  whole  area,  with  the 
open  spaces  filled  by  branches,  in  a  way  to  form  what  is 
termed  a  brush  fence.  This  is  not  a  sightly  object,  and  the 

VOL.  I.  — 4 


38  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

captain  had  ordered  the  line  to  be  drawn  within  the  woods, 
so  that  the  visible  boundaries  of  the  open  land  were  the 
virgin  forest  itself.  His  men  had  protested  against  this,  a 
fence,  however  unseemly,  being  in  their  view  an  indispen 
sable  accessory  to  civilization.  But  the  captain's  authority, 
if  not  his  better  taste,  prevailed  ;  and  the  boundary  of  felled 
trees  and  brush  was  completely  concealed  in  the  back 
ground  of  woods.  As  yet,  there  was  no  necessity  for  cross- 
fences,  the  whole  open  space  lying  in  a  single  field.  One 
hundred  acres  were  in  winter  wheat.  As  this  grain  had 
been  got  in  the  previous  autumn,  it  was  now  standing  on 
the  finest  and  driest  of  the  soil,  giving  an  air  of  rich  fertility 
to  the  whole  basin.  Grass-seed  had  been  sown  along  both 
banks  of  the  stream,  and  its  waters  were  quietly  flowing 
between  two  wide  belts  of  fresh  verdure,  the  young  plants 
having  already  started  in  that  sheltered  receptacle  of  the 
sun's  rays.  Other  portions  of  the  flat  showed  signs  of  im 
provement,  the  plough  having  actually  been  at  work  for 
quite  a  fortnight. 

All  this  was  far  more  than  even  the  captain  had  expected, 
and  much  more  than  his  wife  had  dared  to  hope.  Mrs. 
Willoughby  had  been  accustomed  to  witness  the  slow  pro 
gress  of  a  new  settlement ;  but  never  before  had  she  seen 
what  might  be  done  on  a  beaver-dam.  To  her  all  appeared 
like  magic,  and  her  first  question  would  have  been  to  ask 
her  husband  to  explain  what  had  been  done  with  the  trees 
and  stumps,  had  not  her  future  residence  caught  her  eye. 
Captain  Willoughby  had  left  his  orders  concerning  the 
house,  previously  to  quitting  the  Knoll ;  and  he  was  now 
well  pleased  to  perceive  that  they  had  been  attended  to.  As 
this  spot  will  prove  the  scene  of  many  of  the  incidents  we 
are  bound  to  relate,  it  may  be  proper,  here,  to  describe  it,  at 
some  length. 

The  hillock  that  rose  out  of  the  pond,  in  the  form  of  a 
rocky  little  island,  was  one  of  those  capricious  formations 
that  are  often  met  with  on  the  surface  of  the  earth.  It  stood 
about  thirty  rods  from  the  northern  side  of  the  area,  very 
nearly  central  as  to  its  eastern  and  western  boundaries,  and 
presented  a  slope  inclining  towards  the  south.  Its  greatest 
height  was  at  its  northern  end,  where  it  rose  out  of  the  rich 
alluvion  of  the  soil,  literally  a  rock  of  some  forty  feet  in 


THE     II UTTED     KNOLL.  39 

perpendicular  height,  having  a  summit  of  about  an  acre  of 
level  hind,  ami  Hilling  oll'on  its  three  sides  ;  to  the  east  and 
west  precipitously  ;  to  the  south  quite  gently  and  with  rogu- 
lariiy.  It  was  this  accidental  fbmiation  which  had  induced 
tin-  captain  to  select  the  spot  as  the  site  of  his  residence; 
for  dwelling  so  far  from  any  post,  and  in  a  place  so  difficult 
of  access,  something  like  military  defences  were  merely 
precautions  of  ordinary  prudence.  While  the  pond  remained, 
the  i.-J.et  was  susceptible  of  being  made  very  strong  against 
any  of  the  usual  assaults  of  Indian  warfare;  and,  now  that 
the  basin  was  drained,  it  had  great  advantages  for  the  same 
purpose.  The  perpendicular  rock  to  the  north,  even  over 
hung  the  plain.  It  was  almost  inaccessible;  while  the 
formation  on  the  other  sides,  offered  singular  facilities,  both 
for  a  dwelling  and  for  security.  All  this  the  captain,  who 
was  so  familiar  with  the  finesse  of  Indian  stratagem,  had 
resolved  to  improve  in  the  following  manner : 

In  the  first  place,  he  directed  the  men  to  build  a  massive 
wall  of  stone,  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  length,  and  six 
feet  in  height.  This  stretched  in  front  of  the  perpendicular 
rock,  with  receding  walls  to  its  verge.  The  latter  were 
about  two  hundred  feet  in  length,  each.  This  was  enclosing 
an  area  of  two  hundred,  by  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
within  a  blind  wall  of  masonry.  Through  this  wall  there 
was  only  a  single  passage ;  a  gate-way,  in  the  centre  of  its 
southern  face.  The  materials  had  all  been  found  on  the 
hill  itself,  which  was  well  covered  with  heavy  stones. 
Within  this  wall,  which  was  substantially  laid,  by  a  Scotch 
mason,  one  accustomed  to  the  craft,  the  men  had  erected  a 
building  of  massive,  squared,  pine  timber,  well  secured  by 
cross  partitions.  This  building  followed  the  wall  in  its 
whole  extent,  was  just  fifteen  feet  in  elevation,  without  tho 
roof,  and  was  composed,  in  part,  by  the  wall  itself;  the 
latter  forming  nearly  one-half  its  height,  on  the  exterior. 
The  breadth  of  this  edifice  was  only  twenty  feet,  clear  of 
the  stones  and  wood-work  ;  leaving  a  court  within  of  about 
one  hundred  by  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  in  extent. 
The  roof  extended  over  the  gateway  even  ;  so  that  the  spaco 
within  was  completely  covered,  the  gates  being  closed.  This 
much  had  been  done'  during  the  preceding  fall  and  winter ; 
the  edifice  presenting  an  appearance  of  rude  completeness 


40  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

on  the  exterior.  Still  it  had  a  sombre  and  goal-like  air  ,* 
there  being  nothing  resembling  a  window  visible ;  no  aper 
ture,  indeed,  on  either  of  its  outer  faces,  but  the  open  gate 
way,  of  which  the  massive  leaves  were  finished,  and  placed 
against  the  adjacent  walls,  but  which  were  not  yet  hung. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  this  house  resembled  bar 
racks,  more  than  an  ordinary  dwelling.  Mrs.  Willoughby 
stood  gazing  at  it,  half  in  doubt  whether  to  admire  or  to 
condemn,  when  a  voice,  within  a  few  yards,  suddenly  drew 
her  attention  in  another  direction. 

"  How  you  like  him  ?"  asked  Nick,  who  was  seated  on  a 
stone,  at  the  margin  of  the  stream,  washing  his  feet,  after  a 
long  day's  hunt.  "  No  t'ink  him  better  dan  beaver  skin  ? 
Cap'in  know  all  'bout  him  ;  now  he  give  Nick  some  more 
last  quit-rent  ?" 

"  Last,  indeed,  it  will  be,  then,  Nick  ;  for  I  have  already 
paid  you  twice  for  your  rights." 

"  Discovery  wort'  great  deal,  cap'in — see  what  great  man 
he  make  pale-face." 

"  Ay,  but  your  discovery,  Nick,  is  not  of  that  sort." 

"  What  sort,  den  ?"  demanded  Nick,  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning.  "  Give  him  back  'e  beaver,  if  you  no  like  he 
discovery.  Grad  to  see  'em  back,  ag'in  ;  skin  higher  price 
dan  ever." 

•'  Nick,  you're  a  cormorant,  if  there  ever  was  one  in  this 
world  !  Here  —  there  is  a  dollar  for  you  ;  the  quit-rent  is 
paid  for  this  year,  at  least.  It  ought  to  be  for  the  last 
time." 

"  Let  him  go  for  all  summer,  cap'in.  Yes,  Nick  won 
derful  commerant !  no  such  eye  he  got,  among  Oneida  !" 

Here  the  Tuscarora  left  the  side  of  the  stream,  and  came 
up  on  the  rock,  shaking  hands,  good-humouredly,  with  Mrs. 
Willoughby,  who  rather  liked  the  knave ;  though  she  knew 
him  to  possess  most  of  the  vices  of  his  class. 

"  He  very  han'som  beaver-dam,"  said  Nick,  sweeping  his 
hand  gracefully  over  the  view  ;  "  bye  'nd  bye,  he  '11  bring 
potatoe,  and  corn,  and  cider — all  'e  squaw  want.  Cap'in 
got  e;ood  fort,  too.  Old  soldier  love  fort ;  like  to  live  in 
him." 

"  The  day  may  come,  Nick,  when  that  fort  may  serve  us 
all  a  good  turn,  out  here  in  the  wilderness,"  Mrs.  Willoughby 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  41 

observed,  in  a  somewhat  melancholy  tone  ;  for  her  tender 
thoughts  naturally  turned  towards  her  youthful  and  innocent 
daugjb 

Indian  gazed  at  the  house,  with  that  fierce  intentness 
which  somet  lilies  glared,  in  a  manner  tliat  had  got  to  be,  in  its 
ordinary  aspects,  dull  and  besotted.  There  was  a  startling 
intelligence  in  his  eye,  at  such  moments  ;  the  feelings  of 
youth  and  earlier  habit,  once  more  asserting  their  power. 
Twenty  years  before,  Nick  had  been  foremost  on  the  war 
path  ;  and  what  was  scarcely  less  honourable,  among  the 
wise>t  around  the  council-lire.  He  was  born  a  chief,  and 
had  made  himself  an  outcast  from  his  tribe,  more  by  the 
>  of  ungovernable  passions,  than  from  any  act  of  base 
meam 

«« Cai/in  tell  Nick,  now,  what  he  mean  by  building  such 
house,  out  here,  among  ole  beaver  bones  ?"  he  said,  sideling 
up  nearer  to  his  employer,  and  gazing  with  some  curiosity 
into  his  face. 

"  What  do  I  mean,  Nick? — Why  I  mean  to  have  a  place 
of  safety  to  put  the  heads  of  my  wife  and  children  in,  at 
need.  The  road  to  Canada  is  not  so  long,  but  a  red-skin 
can  make  one  pair  of  moccasins  go  over  it.  Then,  the 
( >!!< -idas  and  Mohawks  are  not  all  children  of  heaven." 

"  No  pale-face  rogue,  go  about,  I  s'pose?"  said  Nick,  sar 
castically. 

"  Yes,  there  are  men  of  that  class,  who  are  none  the 
worse  for  being  locked  out  of  one's  house,  at  times.  But, 
what  do  you  think  of  the  hut  ? — You  know  I  call  the  place 
the  *  Hut,'  the  Hutted  Knoll." 

"  lie  hole  plenty  of  beaver,  if  you  cotch  him  ! — But  no 
water  left,  and  he  all  go  away.  Why  you  make  him  stone, 
first;  den  you  make  him  wood,  a'ter  ;  eh]  Plenty  rock; 
plenty  tree." 

"  Why,  the  stone  wall  can  neither  be  cut  away,  nor  set 
fire  to,  Nick;  that's  the  reason.  I  took  as  much  stone  as 
was  necessary,  and  then  used  wood,  which  is  more  easily 
worked,  and  which  is  also  drier." 

"  Good — Nick  t'ought  just  dat.  How  you  get  him  water 
if  Injen  come?" 

"  There 's  the  stream,  that  winds  round  the  foot  of  tho 
4* 


42  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

hill,  Nick,  as  you  see ;  and  then  there  is  a  delicious  spring, 
within  one  hundred  yards  of  the  very  gate." 

"Which  side  of  him?"  asked  Nick,  with  his  startling 
rapidity. 

"  Why,  here,  to  the  left  of  the  gate,  and  a  little  to  the 
right  of  the  large  stone — " 

«  No — no,"  interrupted  the  Indian,  "  no  left — no  right — 
which  side — inside  gate ;  outside  gate  ?" 

"  Oh !  —  the  spring  is  outside  the  gate,  certainly  ;  but 
means  might  be  found  to  make  a  covered  way  to  it ;  and 
then  the  stream  winds  round  directly  underneath  the  rocks, 
behind  the  house,  and  water  could  be  raised  from  that,  by 
means  of  a  rope.  Our  rifles  would  count  for  something, 
too,  in  drawing  water,  as  well  as  in  drawing  blood." 

"  Good. — Rifle  got  long  arm.  He  talk  so,  Ingin  mind 
him.  When  you  t'ink  red-skin  come  ag'in  your  fort,  cap- 
'in,  now  you  got  him  done  ?" 

"  A  long  time  first,  I  hope,  Nick.  We  are  at  peace  with 
France,  again  ;  and  I  see  no  prospect  of  any  new  quarrel, 
very  soon.  So  long  as  the  French  and  English  are  at 
peace,  the  red  men  will  not  dare  to  touch  either." 

"  Dat  true  as  missionary !  What  a  soldier  do,  cap'in, 
if  so  much  peace  ?  Warrior  love  a  war-path." 

"  I  wish  it  were  not  so,  Nick.  But  my  hatchet  is  buried, 
I  hope,  for  ever." 

"  Nick  hope  cap'in  know  where  to  find  him,  if  he  want 
to  ?  Very  bad  to  put  anyt'ing  where  he  forget ;  partic'larly 
tomahawk.  Sometime  quarrel  come,  like  rain,  when  you 
don't  tink." 

"  Yes,  that  also  cannot  be  denied.  Yet,  I  fear  the  next 
quarrel  will  be  among  ourselves,  Nick. — The  government 
at  home,  and  the  people  of  the  colonies,  are  getting  to  have 
bad  blood  between  them." 

"  Dat  very  queer  !  Why  pale-face  mo'der  and  pale-face 
darter  no  love  one  anoder,  like  red-skin  ?" 

"  Really,  Nick,  you  are  somewhat  interrogating  this 
evening;  but,  my  squaw  must  be  a  little  desirous  of  seeing 
the  inside  of  her  house,  as  well  as  its  outside,  and  I  must 
refer  you  to  that  honest  fellow,  yonder,  for  an  answer.  His 
name  is  Mike ;  I  hope  he  and  you  will  always  be  good 

f\   •  i       •  •  *  *  ' 

friends. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  43 

So  p.-iyinjz,  the  captain  nodded  in  a  friendly  manner,  and 
led  Mrs.  Willoughby  towards  the  liut,  taking  a  loot-path 
(hat  \\as  already  trodden  lirin,  and  which  followed  the 
sinuosities  of  the  stream,  to  which  it  served  as  a  sort  of  a 
dyke.  Nick  took  the  captain  at  his  word,  and  turning 
about  he  met  the  county  Leitrim-mun,  with  an  air  of  great 
blandm-ss,  thrusting  out  a  hand,  in  the  pale-face  fashion,  as 
a  sign  of  amity,  sayinir,  at  the  same  time — 

"  How  do,  Mike? — Sago — Sago — grad  you  come — good 
fellow  to  drink  Santa  Cruz,  wid  Nick." 

"How  do,  Mike!"  exclaimed  the  other,  looking  at  tho 
irora  with  astonishment,  for  this  was  positively  the  first 
red  man  the  Irishman  had  ever  seen.  "  How  do  Mike  ! 
Ould  Nick  be  ye? — well — ye  look  pretty  much  as  I  ex 
pected  to 'see  you — pray,  how  did  ye  come  to  know  my 
name  ?" 

"  Nick  know  him — know  every  t'ing.  Grad  to  see  you, 
Mike — hope  we  live  together  like  good  friend,  down  yon 
der,  up  here,  over  dere." 

"  Ye  do,  do  ye  !  Divil  burn  me,  now,  if  I  want  any  sich 
company.  Ould  Nick  's  yer  name,  is  it?" 

"Old  Nick  —  young  Nick  —  saucy  Nick;  all  one,  all 
to'thcr.  Make  no  odd  what  you  call ;  I  come." 

"  Och,  yer  a  handy  one  !  Divil  trust  ye,  but  ye  '11  como 
when  you  arn't  wanted,  or  yer  not  of  yer  father's  own 
family.  D  'ye  live  hereabouts,  masthcr  Ould  Nick  ?" 

"  Live  here — out  yonder — in  he  hut,  in  he  wood — where 
he  want.  Make  no  difference  to  Nick." 

Michael  now  drew  back  a  pace  or  two,  keeping  his  eyes 
,ed  on  the  other  intently,  for  he  actually  expected  to 
see  some  prodigious  and  sudden  change  in  his  apjx?arance. 
When  he  thought  he  had  got  a  good  position  for  manly  de 
fence  or  rapid  retreat,  as  either  might  become  necessary, 
the  county  Leitrim-man  put  on  a  bolder  front  and  resumed 
the  discourse. 

"If  it's  so  indifferent  to  yc  where  ye  dwell,"  asked 
Mike,  "  why  can't  you  keep  at  home,  and  let  a  body  carry 
these  cloaks  and  bundles  of  the  missuses,  out  yonder  to  the 
house  wither  she's  gon<  .'" 

"  Nick  help  carry  'em.  Carry  t'ing  for  dat  squaw  hun 
dred  time." 


44  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  That  what !  D'ye  mane  Madam  Willoughby  by  yer 
blackguard  name?" 

"  Yes ;  cap'in  wife — cap'in  squaw,  mean  him.  Carry 
bundle,  basket,  hundred  time  for  him." 

"  The  Lord  preserve  me,  now,  from  sich  atrocity  and 
impudence !"  laying  down  the  cloaks  and  bundles,  and 
facing  the  Indian,  with  an  appearance  of  great  indignation — 
"  Did  a  body  ever  hear  sich  a  liar !  Why,  Misther  Quid 
Nick,  Madam  Willoughby  wouldn't  let  the  likes  of  ye 
touch  the  ind  of  her  garments.  You  would  n't  get  the 
liberty  to  walk  in  the  same  path  with  her,  much  less  to 
carry  her  bundles.  I  '11  answer  for  it,  ye  're  a  great  liar, 
now,  ould  Nick,  in  the  bottom  of  your  heari." 

"  Nick  great  liar,"  answered  the  Indian,  good-naturedly; 
for  he  so  well  knew  this  was  his  common  reputation,  that 
he  saw  no  use  in  denying  it.  "What  of  dat?  Lie  good 
sometime." 

"  That 's  another  !  Oh,  ye  animal ;  I  've  a  great  mind  to 
set  upon  ye  at  once,  and  see  what  an  honest  man  can  do 
wid  ye,  in  fair  fight !  If  I  only  knew  what  ye  'd  got  about 
yer  toes,  now,  under  them  fine-looking  things  ye  wear  for 
shoes,  once,  I  'd  taich  ye  to  talk  of  the  missus,  in  this 
style." 

"  Speak  as  well  as  he  know  how.  Nick  never  been  to 
school.  Call  'e  squaw,  good  squaw.  What  want  more  ?" 

"  Get  out !  If  ye  come  a  foot  nearer,  I  '11  be  at  ye,  like 
a  dog  upon  a  bull,  though  ye  gore  me.  What  brought  ye 
into  this  paiceful  sittlement,  where  nothing  but  virtue  and 
honesty  have  taken  up  their  abode  ?" 

What  more  Mike  might  have  said  is  not  known,  as  Nick 
caught  a  sign  from  the  captain,'  and  went  loping  across  the 
flat,  at  his  customary  gait,  leaving  the  Irishman  standing 
on  the  defensive,  and,  to  own  the  truth,  not  sorry  to  be  rid 
of  him.  Unfortunately  for  the  immediate  enlightenment  of 
Mike's  mind,  Joel  overheard  the  dialogue,  and  compre 
hending  its  meaning,  with  his  native  readiness,  he  joined 
his  companion  in  a  mood  but  little  disposed  to  clear  up  the 
error. 

"  Did  ye  see  that  crathure  ?"  asked  Mike,  with  em 
phasis.  • 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  45 

"  Sartain — he  is  often  seen  hero,  at  tho  Hut.  He  may  bo 
said  to  lis«:  here,  halt' his  time." 

"  A  pritty  hut,  then,  ye  must  have  of  it !  Why  do  ye 
tolerate  the  vagabond  ?  He  's  not  lit  for  Christian  society." 

"Oh!  hi;  's  good  company,  sometimes,  Alike.  When 
you  know  him  better,  you  '11  like  him  better.  Come ;  up 
with  the  bundles,  and  let  us  follow.  The  captain  is  looking 
after  us,  as  you 

"  Well  may  he  look,  to  see  us  in  sich  company  ! — Will 
he  har-r-m  the  missus?" 

"  Not  he.  I  tell  you,  you  '11  like  him  yourself  when  you 
come  to  know  him." 

"  If  I  do,  burn  me!  Why,  he  says  himself,  that  he's 
Ould  Nick,  and  I  'm  sure  I  never  fancied  the  crathure  but 
it  was  in  just  some  such  for-r-m.  Och  !  he  's  ill-looking 
enough,  for  twenty  Ould  Nicks." 

Lest  the  reader  get  an  exaggerated  notion  of  Michael's 
credulity,  it  may  be  well  to  say  that  Nick  had  painted  a 
few  days  before,  in  a  fit  of  caprice,  and  that  one-half  of  his 
face  was  black,  and  the  other  a  deep  red,  while  each  of  his 
ryes  was  surrounded  with  a  circle  of  white,  all  of  which 
had  got  to  be  a  little  confused  in  consequence  of  a  night  or 
two  of  orgies,  succeeded  by  mornings  in  which  the  toilet 
had  been  altogether  neglected.  His  dress,  too,  a  blanket 
with  tawdry  red  and  yellow  trimmings,  with  ornamented 
Ironings  and  moccasins  to  correspond,  had  all  aided  in 
maintaining  the  accidental  mystification.  Mike  followed 
his  companion,  growling  out  his  discontent,  and  watching 
the  form  of  the  Indian,  as  the  laftor  sfill  went  loping  over 
the  flat,  having  passed  the  captain,  with  a  message  to  tho 
bnrns. 

"  I  '11  warrant  yo,  now,  the  captain  wouldn't  tolerate 
such  a  crathure,  but  he  's  sent  him  off  to  the  woods,  as  ye 
may  sre,  like  a  divil,  as  he  is  !  To  think  of  such  a  thing's 
ppakcing  to  the  missus!  Will  I  fight  him? — That  will  I, 
rather  than  he'll  say  an  uncivil  word  to  the  likes  of  her! 
He  's  claws  they  tell  me,  though  he  kapes  them  so  well  co 
vered  in  his  fine  brogues;  divil  burn  me,  but  I'd  grapple 
him  by  the  toes." 

Joel  now  saw  how  deep  was  Michael's  delusion,  and 
knowing  it  must  soon  be  over,  he  determined  to  make  a 


46  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

merit  of  necessity,  by  letting  his  friend  into  the  truth,  there 
by  creating  a  confidence  that  would  open  the  way  to  a 
hundred  future  mischievous  scenes. 

"  Claws  !"  he  repeated,  with  an  air  of  surprise — "  And 
why  do  you  think  an  Injin  has  claws,  Mike  ?" 

"  An  Injin  !  D'ye  call  that  miscoloured  crathure  an  Injin, 
Joel.  Isn't  it  one  of  yer  yankee  divilsl" 

"  Out  upon  you,  for  an  Irish  ninny.  Do  you  think  the 
captain  would  board  a  devil !  The  fellow  's  a  Tuscarora, 
and  is  as  well  known  here  as  the  owner  of  the  Hut  himself. 
It 's  Saucy  Nick." 

"  Yes,  saucy  Ould  Nick — I  had  it  from  his  very  mout', 
and  even  the  divil  would  hardly  be  such  a  blackguard  as  to 
lie  about  his  own  name.  Och  !  he 's  a  roarer,  sure  enough  ; 
and  then  for  the  tusks  you  mintion,  I  didn't  see  'em,  with 
my  eyes ;  but  the  crathure  has  a  mouth  that  might  hould  a 
basket-full." 

Joel  now  perceived  that  he  must  go  more  seriously  to 
work  to  undeceive  his  companion.  Mike  honestly  believed 
he  had  met  an  American  devil,  and  it  required  no  little  ar 
gumentation  to  persuade  him  of  the  contrary.  We  shall 
leave  Joel  employed  in  this  difficult  task,  in  which  he  finally 
succeeded,  and  follow  the  captain  and  his  wife  to  the  hut. 

The  lord  and  lady  of  the  manor  examined  everything 
around  their  future  residence,  with  curious  eyes.  Jamie 
Allen,  the  Scotch  mason  mentioned,  was  standing  in  front 
of  the  house,  to  hear  what  might  be  said  of  his  wall,  while 
two  or  three  other  mechanics  betrayed  some  such  agitation 
as  the  tyro  in  literature  manifests,  ere  he  learns  what  the 
critics  have  said  of  his  first  work.  The  exterior  gave  great 
satisfaction  to  the  captain.  The  wall  was  not  only  solid 
and  secure,  but  it  was  really  handsome.  This  was  in  some 
measure  owing  to  the  quality  of  the  stones,  but  quite  as 
much  to  Jamie's  dexterity  in  using  them.  The  wall  and 
chimneys,  of  the  latter  of  which  there  were  no  less  than 
six,  were  all  laid  in  lime,  too ;  it  having  been  found  neces 
sary  to  burn  some  of  the  material  to  plaster  the  interior. 
Then  the  gates  were  massive,  being  framed  in  oak,  filled 
in  with  four-inch  plank,  and  might  have  resisted  a  very 
formidable  assault.  Their  strong  iron  hinges  were  all 
in  their  places,  but  the  heavy  job  of  hanging  had  been  de- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  47 

ferred  to  a  leisure  moment,  when  all  the  strength  of  the 
manor  might  be  collected  for  that  purpose.  There  they 
stood,  inclining  against  tin:  wall,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
gate- way,  like  indolent  sentinels  on  post,  who  felt  too  secure 
1  miu  attack  to  raise  their  eyes. 

The  dillerent  mechanics  crowded  round  the  captain,  each 
eager  to  show  his  own  portion  of  what  had  been  done.  The 
winter  had  not  been  wasted,  but,  proper  materials  bein<j  in 
abundance,  and  on  the  spot,  captain  Willoughby  had  every 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  got  tor  his  money. 
Completely  shut  out  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  men  had 
worked  cheerfully  and  with  little  interruption ;  for  their  la 
bours  composed  their  recreation.  Mrs.  Willoughby  il»und  the 
part  of  the  building  her  family  was  to  occupy,  with  the  usual 
offices,  done  and  furnished.  *  This  comprised  all  the  front 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  gate-way,  and  most  of  the  wing, 
in  the  same  half,  extending  back  to  the  cliff.  It  is  true,  the 
finish  was  plain ;  but  everything  was  comfortable.  The 
ceilings  were  only  ten  feet  high  certainly,  but  it  was  thought 
prodigious  in  the  colony  in  that  day ;  and  then  the  plaster 
ing  of  Jamie  was  by  no  means  as  unexceptionable  as  his 
stone-work ;  still  every  room  had  its  two  coats,  and  white 
wash  gave  them  a  clean  and  healthful  aspect.  The  end  of 
the  wing  that  came  next  the  cliff  was  a  laundry,  and  a  pump 
was  fitted,  by  means  of  which  water  was  raised  from  the 
rivulet.  Next  came  the  kitchen,  a  spacious  and  comfortable 
room  of  thirty  by  twenty  feet ;  an  upper-servant's  apartment 
succeeded ;  after  which  were  the  bed-rooms  of  the  family, 
a  large  parlour,  and  a  library,  or  office,  for  the  captain.  As 
the  entire  range,  on  this  particular  side  of  the  house,  extend 
ed  near  or  quite  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  there  was  no 
want  of  space  or  accommodation. 

The  opposite,  or  western  half  of  the  edifice,  was  devoted 
to  more  homely  uses.  It  contained  an  eating-room  and 
divers  sleeping-rooms  far  the  domestics  and  labourers,  be- 
sides  store-rooms,  garners,  and  omnium  gathcrums  of  all 
sorts.  The  vast  ranges  of  garrets,  too,  answered  for  various 
purposes  of  household  and  farming  economy.  All  the  win 
dows,  and  sundry  doors,  opened  into  the  court,  while  the 
whole  of  the  exterior  wall,  both  wooden  and  stone,  presented 
a  perfect  blank,  in  the  way  of  outlets.  It  was  the  captain's 


48  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

intention,  however,  to  cut  divers  loops  through  the  logs,  at 
some  convenient  moment,  so  that  men  stationed  in  the  gar 
rets  might  command  the  different  faces  of  the  structure  with 
their  musketry.  But,  like  the  gates,  these  means  of  defence 
•were  laid  aside  for  a  more  favourable  opportunity. 

Our  excellent  matron  was  delighted  with  her  domestic 
arrangements.  They  much  surpassed  any  of  the  various 
barracks  in  which  she  had  dwelt,  and  a  smile  of  happiness 
beamed  on  her  handsome  face,  as  she  followed  her  husband 
from  room  to  room,  listening  to  his  explanations.  When 
they  entered  their  private  apartments,  and  these  were  fur 
nished  and  ready  to  receive  them,  respect  caused  the  rest 
to  leave  them  by  themselves,  and  once  more  they  found  that 
they  were  atone. 

"  Well,  Wilhelmina,"  asked  the  gratified  husband — grati 
fied,  because  he  saw  pleasure  beaming  in  the  mild  counte 
nance  and  serene  blue  eyes  of  one  of  the  best  wives  living — 
"  Well,  Wilhelmina,"  he  asked,  "  can  you  give  up  Albany, 
and  all  the  comforts  of  your  friends'  dwellings,  to  be  satis 
fied  in  a  home  like  this?  It  is  not  probable  I  shall  ever 
build  again,  whatever  Bob  may  do,  when  ke  comes  after 
me.  This  structure,  then,  part  house,  part  barrack,  part 
fort,  as  it  is,  must  be  our  residence  for  the  remainder  of  our 
days.  We  are  hutted  for  life." 

"  It  is  all-sufficient,  Willoughby.  It  has  space,  comfort, 
warmth,  coolness  and  security.  What  more  can  a  wife  and 
a  mother  ask,  when  she  is  surrounded  by  those  she  most 
loves  1  Only  attend  to  the  security,  Hugh.  Remember  how 
far  we  are  removed  from  any  succour,  and  how  sudden  and 
fierce  the  Indians  are  in  their  attacks.  Twice  have  we, 
ourselves,  been  near  being  destroyed  by  surprises,  from 
which  accident,  or  God's  providence,  protected  us,  rather 
than  our  own  vigilance.  If  this  could  happen  in  garrisons, 
and  with  king's  troops  around  us,  how  much  more  easily 
might  it  happen  here,  with  only  common  labourers  to  watch 
what  is  going  on  !" 

"  You  exaggerate  the  danger,  wife.  There  are  no  Indians, 
in  this  part  of  the  country,  who  would  dare  to  molest  a  set 
tlement  like  ours.  We  count  thirteen  able-bodied  men  in 
all,  besides  seven  women,  and  could  use  seventeen  or  eigh 
teen  muskets  and  rifles  on  an  emergency.  No  tribe  would 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  49 

dare  commence  hostilities,  in  a  time  of  general  peace,  and 
so  near  the  settlements  too ;  and,  as  to  stragglers,  who 
might  indt -(.'(.I  immK-r  to  rob,  we  arc  so  strong,  ourselves, 
that  we  may  sleep  in  peace,  so  far  as  they  are  concerned." 

*'  One  never  knows  that,  dearest  Hugh.  A  marauding 
party  of  half-a-dozen  might  prove  too  much  for  many  times 
their  own  number,  when  unprepared.  I  do  hope  you  will 
have  the  gates  hung,  at  least ;  should  the  girls  come  here, 
in  the  autumn,  I  could  not  sleep  without  hanging  the  guu-s.'' 

"  Fear  nothing,  love,"  said  the  captain,  kissing  his  wife, 
with  manly  tenderness.  "  As  for  Beulah  and  Maud,  let  them 
come  when  they  please;  we  shall  always  have  a  welcome 
for  them,  and  no  place  can  be  safer  than'under  their  father's 
eyes." 

"  I  care  not  so  much  for  myself,  Hugh,  but  do  not  let  the 
gates  be  forgotten  until  the  girls  come." 

"  Everything  shall  be  done  as  you  desire,  wife  of  mine, 
though  it  will  be  a  hard  job  to  get  two  such  confounded 
heavy  loads  of  wood  on  their  hinges.  We  must  take  some 
day  when  everybody  is  at  home,  and  everybody  willing  to 
work.  Saturday  next,  I  intend  to  have  a  review ;  and,  once 
a  month,  the  year  round,  there  will  be  a  muster,  when  all 
the  arms  are  to  be  cleaned  and  loaded,  and  orders  given 
how  to  act  in  case  of  an  alarm.  An  old  soldier  would  be 
disgraced  to  allow  himself  to  be  run  down  by  mere  vaga 
bonds.  My  pride  is  concerned,  and  you  may  sleep  in 
peace." 

"  Yes,  rfo,  dearest  Hugh." — Then  the  matron  proceeded 
through  the  rooms,  expressing  her  satisfaction  at  the  care- 
which  had  been  had  for  her  comfort,  in  her  own  rooms  in 
particular. 

Sooth  to  say,  the  interior  of  the  Hut  presented  that  odd 
contrast  between  civilization  and  rude  expedients,  which  so 
frequently  occurs  on  an  American  frontier,  where  persons 
educated  in  refinement  often  find  themselves  brought  in  closo 
collision  with  savage  life.  Carpets,  in  America,  and  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  1765,  were  not  quite  as  much  a  matter  of 
course  in  domestic  economy,  as  they  are  to-day.  Still  they 
were  to  be  found,  though  it  was  rare,  indeed,  that  they  cover 
ed  more  than  the  centre  of  the  room.  One  of  these  great 
essentials,  without  which  no  place  can  appear  comfortable 
VOL.  1.— 5. 


50  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

in  a  cold  climate,  was  spread  on  the  floor  of  Mrs.  Willough- 
by's  parlour — a  room  that  served  for  both  eating  and  as  g 
sala,  the  Knight's  Hall  of  the  Hut,  measuring  twenty  by 
twenty-four  feet — though  in  fact  this  carpet  concealed  exactly 
two-thirds  of  the  white  clean  plank.  Then  the  chairs  were 
massive  and  even  rich,  while  one  might  see  his  face  in  the 
dark  mahogany  of  the  tables.  There  were  cellarets — the 
captain  being  a  connoisseur  in  wines — bureaus,  secretaries, 
beaufets,  and  other  similar  articles,  that  had  been  collected 
in  the  course  of  twenty  years'  housekeeping,  and  scattered 
at  different  posts,  were  collected,  and  brought  hither  by 
means  of  sledges,  and  the  facilities  of  the  water-courses. 
Fashion  had  little  to  do  with  furniture,  in  that  simple  age, 
when  the  son  did  not  hesitate  to  wear  even  the  clothes  of 
the  father,  years  and  years  after  the  tailor  had  taken  leave 
of  them.  Massive  old  furniture,  in  particular,  lasted  for 
generations,  and  our  matron  now  saw  many  articles  that 
had  belonged  to  her  grandfather  assembled  beneath  the  first 
roof  that  she  could  ever  strictly  call  her  own. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  took  a  survey  of  the  offices  last.  Here 
she  found,  already  established,  the  two  Plinies,  with  Man', 
the  sister  of  the  elder  Pliny,  Bess,  the  wife  of  the  younger, 
and  Mony — alias  Desdemona — a  collateral  of  the  race,  by 
ties  and  affinities  that  garter-king-at-arms  could  not  have 
traced  genealogically ;  since  he  would  have  been  puzzled 
to  say  whether  the  woman  was  the  cousin,  or  aunt,  or  step 
daughter  of  MaH',  or  all  three.  All  the  women  were  hard 
at  work,  Bess  singing  in  a  voice  that  reached  the  adjoining 
forest.  Marz' — this  name  was  pronounced  with  a  strong 
emphasis  on  the  last  syllable,  or  like  Maria,  without  the 
final  vowel — Mari'  was  the  head  of  the  kitchen,  even  Pliny 
the  elder  standing  in  salutary  dread  of  her  authority ;  and 
her  orders  to  her  brother  and  nephew  were  pouring  forth, 
in  an  English  that  was  divided  into  three  categories ;  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  the  Low  Dutch,  and  the  Guinea  dialect ;  a 
medley  that  rendered  her  discourse  a  droll  assemblage  of 
the  vulgar  and  the  classical. 

"  Here,  niggers,"  she  cried,  "  why  you  don't  jump  about 
like  Paus  dance?  Ebbery  t'ing  want  a  hand,  and  some 
want  a  foot.  Plate  to  wash,  crockery  to  open,  water  to 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  51 

Vile,  dcm  knife  to  clean,  and  nol'ing  missed.     Lord,  here  's 
a  niruiain,  and  'o  whole  kitchen  in  a  dill'usion." 

"  Well,  Mart',"  exclaimed  the  captain,  good-naturedly, 
'*  here  you  are,  scolding  away  as  if  you  had  been  in  the 
place  these  six  months,  and  knew  all  its  faults  and  weak- 


"Can't  help  a  scold,  master,  in  sich  a  time  as  dis — • 
come  away  from  dem  plates,  you  Great  Smash,  and  let  a 
proper  hand  take  hold  on  'em." 

Here  we  ought  to  say,  that  captain  Willoughhy  had  chris 
tened  Bess  by  the  sobriquet  of  Great  Smash,  on  account  of 
her  size,  which  fell  little  short  of  two  hundred,  estimated  in 
pounds,  and  a  certain  facility  she  possessed  in  destroying 
crockery,  while  'Mony  went  by  the  milder  appellation  of 
"  Little  Smash ;"  not  that  bowls  or  plates  fared  any  better 
in  her  hands,  but  because  she  weighed  only  one  hundred 
and  eighty. 

"  Dis  is  what  I  tell  'em,  master,"  continued  Mari',  in  a  re 
monstrating,  argumentative  sort  of  a  tone,  with  dogmatism 
and  respect  singularly  mingled  in  her  manner  —  "Dis, 
massa,  just  what  I  tell  'em  all.  I  tell  'em,  says  I,  this  is 
Hunter  Knoll,  and  not  All&owny — here  no  store — no  place 
to  buy  t'ing  if  you  break  'em ;  no  good  woman  who  know 
ebbery  t'ing,  to  tell  you  where  to  find  t'ing,  if  you  lose  him. 
If  dere  was  only  good  woman,  dat  somet'ing ;  but  no  fortun'- 
teller  out  here  in  de  bushes — no,  no — when  a  silber  spoon 
go,  here,  he  go  for  good  and  all — Goody,  massy" — staring 
at  something  in  the  court — "  what  he  call  dat,  sa  ?" 

"  That — oh  !  that  is  only  an  Indian  hunter  I  keep  about 
me,  to  bring  us  game — you  '11  never  have  an  empty  spit, 
Mart',  as  long  as  he  is  with  us.  Fear  nothing ;  he  will  not 
harm  you.  His  name  is  Nick." 

"De  O/eNick,  m:. 

"  No,  only  Saucy  Nick.  The  fellow  is  a  little  slovenly 
to-day  in  his  appearance,  and  you  see  he  has  brought  already 
several  partridges,  besides  a  rabbit.  We  shall  have  venison, 
in  the  season." 

Here  nil  tho  negroes,  after  staring  at  Nick,  quite  a  min 
ute,  set  up  a  loud  shout,  laughing  as  if  the  Tuscarora  had 
been  created  for  their  special  amusement.  Although  the 
captain  was  somewhat  of  a  martinet  in  his  domestic  disci- 


52  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

pline,  it  had  ever  altogether  exceeded  his  authority,  or  hi3 
art,  to  prevent  these  bursts  of  merriment ;  and  he  led  his 
wife  away  from  the  din,  leaving  Mari',  Great  Smash,  and 
Little  Smash,  with  the  two  Plinies,  in  ecstasies  at  their  own 
uproar.  Burst  succeeded  burst,  until  the  Indian  walked 
away,  in  offended  dignity. 

Such  was  the  commencement  of  the  domestication  of  the 
Willoughbys  at  the  Hutted  Knoll.  The  plan  of  our  tale 
does  not  require  us  to  follow  them  minutely  for  the  few 
succeeding  years,  though  some  further  explanation  may  be 
necessary  to  show  why  this  settlement  varied  a  little  from 
the  ordinary  course. 

That  very  season,  or,  in  the  summer  of  1765,  Mrs.  Wil- 
loughby  inherited  some  real  estate  in  Albany,  by  the  death 
of  an  uncle,  as  well  as  a  few  thousand  pounds  currency,  in 
ready  money.  This  addition  to  his  fortune  made  the  cap 
tain  exceedingly  comfortable ;  or,  for  that  day,  rich ;  and  it 
left  him  to  act  his  pleasure  as  related  to  his  lands.  Situated 
as  these  last  were,  so  remote  from  other  settlements  as  to 
render  highways,  for  some  time,  hopeless,  he  saw  no  use  in 
endeavouring  to  anticipate  the  natural  order  of  things.  It 
would  only  create  embarrassment  to  raise  produce  that 
could  not  be  sent  to  market ;  and  he  well  knew  that  a  popu 
lation  of  any  amount  could  not  exist,  in  quiet,  without  the 
usual  attendants  of  buying  and  selling.  Then  it  suited  his 
own  taste  to  be  the  commander-in-chief  of  an  isolated  esta 
blishment  like  this  ;  and  he  was  content  to  live  in  abundance, 
on  his  flats,  feeding  his  people,  his  cattle,  and  even  his  hogs 
to  satiety,  and  having  wherewithal  to  send  away  the  occa 
sional  adventurer,  who  entered  his  clearing,  contented  and 
happy. 

Thus  it  was  that  he  neither  sold  nor  leased.  No  person 
dwelt  on  his  land  who  was  not  a  direct  dependant,  or  hire 
ling,  and  all  that  the  earth  yielded  he  could  call  his  own. 
Nothing  was  sent  abroad  for  sale  but  cattle.  Every  year, 
a  small  drove  of  fat  beeves  and  milch  cows  found  their  way 
through  the  forest  to  Albany,  and  the  proceeds  returned  in 
the  shape  of  foreign  supplies.  The  rents,  and  the  interests 
on  bonds,  were  left  to  accumulate,  or  were  applied  to  aid 
Robert  in  obtaining  a  new  step  in  the  army.  Lands  began 
to  be  granted  nearer  and  nearer  to  his  own,  and  here  and 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  53 

there  some  old  officer  like  himself,  or  a  solitary  farmer,  be 
gan  to  cut  away  the  wilderness;  but  none  in  his  immediate 
vicinity. 

Still"  the  captain  did  not  live  altogether  as  a  hermit.  He 
veiled  Edmcston  of  Mount  Edmeston,  a  neighbour  Irs; 
than  fitly  miles  distant;  was  occasionally  seen  at  Johnson 
Hall,  with  Sir  William;  or  at  the  bachelor  establishment 
of  Sir  John,  on  the  Mohawk ;  and  once  or  twice  he  so  fur 
overcame  his  indolence,  as  to  consent  to  serve  as  a  memh'-r 
for  a  new  county,  that  was  called  Tryon,  after  a  ruling 
governor. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

» . 

Hail !  sober  evening  !  Thee  the  harass'd  brain 
And  aching  heart  with  fond  orisons  greet; 
The  respite  thou  of  toil;  the  balm  of  pain  ; 
To  thoughtful  mind  the  hour  for  musing  meet : 
'Tis  then  the  sage  from  forth  his  lone  retreat, 
The  rolling  universe  around  espies; 
'Tis  then  the  bard  may  hold  communion  sweet 
With  lovely  shapes  unkcnncd  by  grosser  eyes, 
And  quick  perception  comes  of  finer  mysteries. 

SANDS. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter  we  closed  the  minuter  narrative 
with  a  scene  at  the  Hut,  in  the  spring  of  1765.  We  must 
now  advance  the  time  just  ten  years,  opening,  anew,  in  the 
month  of  May,  1775.  This,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  tell 
the  reader,  is  bringing  him  at  once  up  to  the  earliest  days 
of  the  revolution.  The  contest  which  preceded  that  great 
event  had  in  fact  occurred  in  the  intervening  time,  and  wo 
are  now  about  to  plunge  into  the  current  of  some  of  the 
minor  incidents  of  the  struggle  itself. 

Ten  years  are  a  century  in  the  history  of  a  perfectly  now 
settlement.  The  changes  they  produce  are  even  surprising, 
though  in  ordinary  cases  they  do  not  suffice  to  erase  the 
signs  of  a  recent  origin.  The  forest  is  opened,  and  the  light 
of  day  admitted,  it  is  true;  but  its  remains  are  still  to  be 
seen  in  multitudes  of  unsightly  stumps,  dead  standing  trees, 
and  ill-looking  stubs.  These  vestiges  of  the  savage  state 


54  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

usually  remain  a  quarter  of  a  century ;  in  certain  regions 
they  are  to  be  found  for  even  more  than  twice  that  period. 
All  this,  however,  had  captain  Willoughby  escaped,  in  con 
sequence  of  limiting  his  clearing,  in  a  great  measure,  to  that 
which  had  been  made  by  the  beavers,  and  from  which  time 
and  natural  decay  had,  long  before  his  arrival,  removed 
every  ungainly  object.  It  is  true,  here  and  there  a  few  acres 
had  been  cleared  on  the  firmer  ground,  at  the  margin  of  the 
flats,  where  barns  and  farm  buildings  had  been  built,  and 
orchards  planted  ;  but,  in  order  to  preserve  the  harmony  of 
his  view,  the  captain  had  caused  all  the  stumps  to  be  pulled 
and  burnt,  giving  to  these  places  the  same  air  of  agricul 
tural  finish  as  characterized  the  fields  on  the  lower  land. 

To  this  sylvan  scene,  at  a  moment  which  preceded  the 
setting  of  the  sun  by  a  little  more  than  an  hour,  and  in  the 
first  week  of  the  genial  month  of  May,  we  must  now  bring 
the  reader  in  fancy.  The  season  had  been  early,  and  the 
Beaver  Manor,  or  the  part  of  it  which  was  cultivated,  lying 
low  and  sheltered,  vegetation  had  advanced  considerably 
beyond  the  point  that  is  usual,  at  that  date,  in  the  elevated 
region  of  which  we  have  been  writing.  The  meadows  were 
green  with  matted  grasses,  the  wheat  and  rye  resembled 
rich  velvets,  and  the  ploughed  fields  had  the  fresh  and  mel 
lowed  appearance  of  good  husbandry  and  a  rich  soil.  The 
shrubbery,  of  which  the  captain's  English  taste  had  intro 
duced  quantities,  was  already  in  leaf,  and  even  portions  of 
the  forest  began  to  veil  their  sombre  mysteries  with  the  de 
licate  foliage  of  an  American  spring. 

The  site  of  the  ancient  pond  was  a  miracle  of  rustic 
beauty.  Everything  like  inequality  or  imperfection  had 
disappeared,  the  whole  presenting  a  broad  and  picturesquely 
shaped  basin,  with  outlines  fashioned  principally  by  nature, 
an  artist  that  rarely  fails  in  effect.  The  flat  was  divided 
into  fields  by  low>post-and-rail  fences,  the  captain  making 
it  a  law  to  banish  all  unruly  animals  from  his  estate.  The 
barns  and  out-buildings  were  neatly  made  and  judiciously 
placed,  and  the  three  or  four  roads,  or  lanes,  that  led  to 
them,  crossed  the  low-land  in  such  graceful  curves,  as 
greatly  to  increase  the  beauty  of  the  landscape.  Here  and 
there  a  log  cabin  was  visible,  nearly  buried  in  the  forest, 
with  a  few  necessary  and  neat  appliances  around  it ;  the 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  55 

homes  of  labourers  who  had  long  dwelt  in  them,  and  who 
seemed  content  to  pass  their  lives  in  the  same  place.  As 
most  of  these  men  had  married  and  become  fathers,  the 
whole  colony,  including  children,  notwithstanding  the  cap- 
policy  not  to  settle,  had  grown  to  considerably  more 
than  a  hundred  souls,  of  whom  three-and-twenty  were  able- 
bodied  men.  Among  the  latter  were  the  millers ;  but,  their 
mills  were  buried  in  the  ravine  where  they  had  been  first 
placed,  quite  out  of  sight  from  the  picture  above,  concealing 
all  the  unavoidable  and  ungainly-looking  objects  of  a  saw 
mill  yard. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  object  of  the  greatest  interest, 
as  it  was  the  most  conspicuous,  was  the  Hutted  Knoll,  as 
the  house  was  now  altogether  called,  and  the  objects  it  con 
tained.  Thither,  then,  we  will  now  direct  our  attention,  and 
describe  things  as  they  appeared  ten  years  after  they  were 
first  presented  to  the  reader. 

The  same  agricultural  finish  as  prevailed  on  the  flats 
pervaded  every  object  on  the  Knoll,  though  some  labour  had 
been  expended  to  produce  it.  Everything  like  a  visible 
rock,  the  face  of  the  clifFon  the  northern  end  cxcepted,  had 
disappeared,  the  stones  having  been  blasted,  and  either 
worked  into  walls  for  foundations,  or  walls  for  fence.  The 
entire  base  of  the  Knoll,  always  excepting  the  little  precipice 
at  the  rivulet,  was  encircled  by  one  of  the  latter,  erected 
under  the  superintendence  of  Jamie  Allen,  who  still  remain 
ed  at  the  Hut,  a  bachelor,  and  as  he  said  himself,  a  happy 
man.  The  southern  face  of  the  Knoll  was  converted  into 
lawn,  trfere  being  quite  two  acres  intersected  with  walks, 
and  well  garnished  with  shrubbery.  What  was  unusual  in 
America,  at  that  day,  the  captain,  owing  to  his  English 
education,  had  avoided  straight  lines,  and  formal  paths; 
giving  to  the  little  spot  the  improvement  on  nature  which  is 
a  consequence  of  embellishing  her  works  without  destroying 
them.  On  each  side  of  this  "lawn  was  an  orchard,  thrifty 
and  young,  and  which  were  already  beginning  to  show  signs 
of  putting  forth  their  blossoms. 

About  the  Hut  itself,  the  appearance  of  change  was  not 
BO  manifest.  Captain  Willoughby  had  caused  it  to  be  con 
structed  originally,  as  he  intended  to  preserve  it,  and  it 
formed  no  part  of  his  plan  to  cover  it  with  tawdry  colours. 


56  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

There  it  stood,  brown  above,  and  grey  beneath,  as  wood  or 
stone  was  the  material,  with  a  widely  projecting  roof.  It 
had  no  piazzas,  or  stoups,  and  was  still  without  external 
•windows,  one  range  excepted.  The  loops  had  been  cut,  but 
it  was  more  for  the  benefit  of  lighting  the  garrets,  than  for 
any  other  reason,  all  of  them  being  glazed,  and  serving  the 
end  for  which  they  had  been  pierced.  The  gates  remained 
precisely  in  the  situation  in  which  they  were,  when  last 
presented  to  the  eye  of  the  reader!  There  they  stood,  each 
leaning  against  the  wall  on  its  own  side  of  the  gate-way, 
the  hinges  beginning  to  rust,  by  time  and  exposure.  Ten 
years  had  not  produced  a  day  of  sufficient  leisure  in  which 
to  hang  them  :  though  Mrs.  Willoughby  frequently  spoke  of 
the  necessity  of  doing  so,  in  the  course  of  the  first  summer. 
Even  she  had  got  to  be  so  familiarized  to  her  situation,  and 
so  accustomed  to  seeing  the  leaves  where  they  stood,  that 
she  now  regarded  them  as  a  couple  of  sleeping  lions  in  stone, 
or  as  characteristic  ornaments,  rather  than  as  substantial 
defences  to  the  entrance  of  the  dwelling. 

The  interior  of  the  Hut,  however,  had  undergone  many 
alterations.  The  western  half  had  been  completed,  and 
handsome  rooms  had  been  fitted  up  for  guests  and  inmates 
of  the  family,  in  the  portion  of  the  edifice  occupied  by  the 
latter.  Additional  comforts  had  been  introduced,  and,  the 
garners,  cribs  and  lodgings  of  the  labourers  having  been 
transferred  to  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  the  house  was  more 
strictly  and  exclusively  the  abode  of  a  respectable  and  well- 
regulated  family.  In  the  rear,  too,  a  wing  had  been  thrown 
along  the  verge  of  the  clifF,  completely  enclosing  the  court. 
This  wing,  which  overhung  the  rivulet,  and  had,  not  only  a 
most  picturesque  site,  but  a  most  picturesque  and  lovely 
view,  now  contained  the  library,  parlour  and  music-room, 
together  with  other  apartments  devoted  to  the  uses  of  the 
ladies,  during  the  day ;  the  old  portions  of  the  house  that 
had  once  been  similarly  occupied  being  now  converted  into 
sleeping  apartments.  The  new  wing  was  constructed  en 
tirely  of  massive  squared  logs,  so  as  to  render  it  bullet-proof, 
there  being  no  necessity  for  a  stone  foundation,  standing,  as 
it  did,  on  the  verge  of  a  cliff  some  forty  feet  in  height.  This 
was  the  part  of  the  edifice  which  had  external  windows, 
the  elevation  removing  it  from  the  danger  of  inroads,  or 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  57 

hostile  shot,  while  the  air  and  view  were  both  grateful  and 
desirable.  S«.me  extra  attention  had  been  paid  to  the  ap- 
pea ranee  of  the  meadows  on  this  side  of  the  Knoll,  and  the 
captain  had  studiously  kept  their  skirts,  as  far  as  th 
could  see  from  the  windows,  in  virgin  forest;  placing  tbo 
barns,  cabins,  and  other  detached  buildings,  so  far  south  as 
to  be  removed  from  view.  Beulah  U'illonghby,  a  gentle, 
tranquil  creature,  had  a  profound  admiration  of  the  beauties 
of  nature;  and  to  her,  her  parents  bad  yielded  the  control 
of  everything  that  was  considered  accessary  to  the  mere 
charms  of  the  eye ;  her  taste  had  directed  most  of  that 
which  had  not  been  effected  by  the  noble  luxuriance  of  na 
ture.  Wild  roses  were  already  putting  forth  their  leaves  in 
various  fissures  of  the  rocks,  where  earth  had  been  ; 
for  their  support,  and  the  margin  of  the  little  stream,  that 
actually  washed  the  base  of  the  cliff,  winding  off  in  a 
charming  sweep  through  the  meadows,  a  rivulet  of  less  than 
twenty  feet  in  width,  was  garnished  with  willows  and  alder. 
Quitting  this  sylvan  spot,  we  will  return  to  the  little  shrub- 
adorned  area  'in  front  of  the  Hut.  This  spot  the  captain 
called  his  glacis,  while  his  daughters  termed  it  the  lawn. 
The  hour,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  shortly  before  sunset, 
and  thither  nearly  all  the  family  had  repaired  to  breathe  the 
freshness  of  the  pure  air,  arid  bathe  in  the  genial  warmth  of 

-on,  which  is  ever  so  grateful  to  those  who  have,  re 
cently  escaped  from  the  rigour  of  a  stern  winter.  Rude, 
and  sufficiently  picturesque  garden-seats,  were  scattered 
about,  and  on  one  of  these  were  seated  the  captain  and  his 
wife;  he,  with  his  hair  sprinkled  with  grey,  a  hale,  athletic, 
healthy  man  of  sixty,  and  she  a  fresh-looking,  mild-featured, 
and  still  handsome  matron  of  forty-eight.  In  front,  stood  a 

table-looking  personage,  of  small  stature,  dJKsaed  in 
rusty  black,  of  the  cut  that  denoted  the  attire  of  a  clergy 
man,  before  it  was  considered  aristocratic  to  wear  the  out 
ward  symbols  of  belonging  to  the  dnuvh  <>f  <;<>d.  This  uas 
the  Rev.  Jedidiah  Woods,  a  native  of  New  England,  who 
had  long  served  as  a  chaplain  in  the  same  regiment  \\ith  the 
captain,  and  who,  being  a  bachelor,  on  retired  pay,  had 
dwelt  with  his  old  messmate  for  the  last  right  years,  in  tbo 
double  capacity  of  one  who  exercised  the  healing  art  as  well 
for  the  soul  as  for  the  body.  To  his  other  offices,  he  added 


58  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

that  of  an  instructor,  in  various  branches  of  knowledge,  to 
the  young  people.  The  chaplain,  for  so  he  was  called  by 
everybody  in  and  around  the  Hut,  was,  at  the  moment  of 
which  we  are  writing,  busy  in  expounding  to  his  friends 
certain  nice  distinctions  that  existed,  or  which  he  fancied  to 
exist,  between  a  torn-cod  and  a  chub,  the  former  of  which 
fish  he  very  erroneously  conceived  he  held  in  his  hand  at 
that  moment ;  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods  being  a  much  better 
angler  than  naturalist.  To  his  dissertation  Mrs.  Willoughby 
listened  with  great  good-nature,  endeavouring  all  the  while 
to  feel  interested ;  while  her  husband  kept  uttering  his  "  by 
all  means,"  "  yes,"  "  certainly,"  "  you're  quite  right, Woods," 
his  gaze,  at  the  same  time,  fastened  on  Joel  Strides,  and 
Pliny  the  elder,  who  were  unharnessing  their  teams,  on  the 
flats  beneath,  having  just  finished  a  "  land,"  and  deeming  it 
too  late  to  commence  another. 

Beulah,  her  pretty  face  shaded  by  a  large  sun-bonnet, 
was  superintending  the  labours  of  Jamie  Allen,  who,  finding 
nothing  just  then  to  do  as  a  mason,  was  acting  in  the  capacity 
of  gardener ;  his  hat  was  thrown  upon  the  grass,  with  his 
white  locks  bare,  and  he  was  delving  about  some  shrubs, 
with  the  intention  of  giving  them  the  benefit  of  a  fresh 
dressing  of  manure.  Maud,  however,  without  a  hat  of  any 
sort,  her  long,  luxuriant,  silken,  golden  tresses  covering  her 
shoulders,  arid  occasionally  veiling  her  warm,  rich  cheek, 
was  exercising  with  a  battledore,  keeping  Little  Smash,  now 
increased  in  size  to  quite  fourteen  stone,  rather  actively  em 
ployed  as  an  assistant,  whenever  the  exuberance  of  her  own 
spirits  caused  her  to  throw  the  plaything  beyond  her  reach. 
In  one  of  the  orchards,  near  by,  two  men  were  employed 
trimming  the  trees.  To  these  the  captain  next  turned  all 
his  attention,  just  as  he  had  encouraged  the  chaplain  to  per 
severe,  by  exclaiming,  "  out  of  all  question,  my  dear  sir" — 
though  he  was  absolutely  ignorant  that  the  other  had  just 
advanced  a  downright  scientific  heresy.  At  this  critical 
moment  a  cry  from  Little  Smash,  that  almost  equalled  a 
downfall  of  crockery  in  its  clamour,  drew  every  eye  in  her 
direction. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Desdemona?"  asked  the  chaplain, 
a  little  tartly,  by  no  means  pleased  at  having  his  natural 
history  startled  by  sounds  so  inapplicable  to  the  subject. 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  59 

"  How  often  have  I  told  you  that  the  Lord  views  with  dis 
pleasure  anything  so  violent  and  improper  as  your  out 
cries!" 

"  Can't  help  him,  dominie — nebber  can  help  him,  whuu 
he  take  me  sudden.  See,  masser,  dere  come  Ole  Nick !" 

There  was  Nick,  sure  enough.  For  the  first  time,  in 
more  than  two  years,  the  Tuscarora  was  seen  approaching 
the  house,  on  the  long,  loping  trot  that  he  affected  when  he 
wished  to  seem  busy,  or  honestly  earning  his  money.  He 
was  advancing  by  the  only  road  that  was  ever  travelled  by 
the  stranger  as  he  approached  the  Hut ;  or,  he  came  up  the 
valley.  As  the  woman  spoke,  he  had  just  made  his  appear 
ance  over  the  rocks,  in  the  direction  of  the  mills.  At  that 
distance,  quite  half  a  mile,  he  would  not  have  been  recog 
nised,  but  for  this  gait,  which  was  too  familiar  to  all  at  the 
Knoll,  however,  to  be  mistaken. 

"  That  is  Nick,  sure  enough !"  exclaimed  the  captain. 
"  The  fellow  comes  at  the  pace  of  a  runner ;  or,  as  if  he 
were  the  bearer  of  some  important  news !" 

"  The  tricks  of  Saucy  Nick  are  too  well  known  to  deceive 
any  here,"  observed  Mrs.  Willoughby,  who,  surrounded  by 
her  husband  and  children,  always  felt  so  happy  as  to  depre 
cate  every  appearance  of  danger. 

"  These  savages  will  keep  that  pace  for  hours  at  a  time," 
observed  the  chaplain ;  "  a  circumstance  that  has  induced 
some  naturalists  to  fancy  a  difference  in  the  species,  if  not 
in  the  genus." 

"  Is  he  chub  or  torn-cod,  Woods  ?"  asked  the  captain, 
throwing  back  on  the  other  all  he  recollected  of  the  previous 
discourse. 

"  Nay,"  observed  Mrs.  Willoughby,  anxiously,  "  I  do 
think  he  may  have  some  intelligence  !  It  is  now  more  than 
a  twelvemonth  since  we  have  seen  Nick." 

"  It  is  more  than  twice  twelvemonth,  my  dear ;  I  have 
not  seen  the  fellow's  face  since  I  denied  him  the  keg  of  rum 
for  his  '  discovery*  of  another  beaver  pond.  He  has  tried  to 
sell  me  a  new  pond  every  season  since  the  purchase  of 
this." 

"  Do  you  think  he  took  serious  offence,  Hugh,  at  that 
refusal  ?  If  so,  would  it  not  be  better  to  give  him  what  ho 
asks?" 


CO  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  I  have  thought  little  about  it,  and  care  less,  my  dear. 
Nick  and  I  know  each  other  pretty  well.  It  is  an  acquaint 
ance  of  thirty  years'  standing,  and  one  that  has  endured 
trials  by  flood  and  field,  and  even  by  the  horse-whip.  No 
less  than  three  times  have  I  been  obliged  to  make  these 
salutary  applications  to  Nick's  back,  with  my  own  hands ; 
though  it  is,  now,  more  than  ten  years  since  a  blow  has 
passed  between  us." 

"  Does  a  savage  ever  forgive  a  blow  T'  asked  the  chap 
lain,  with  a  grave  air,  and  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  I  fancy  a  savage  is  quite  as  apt  to  forgive  it,  as  a  civil 
ized  man,  Woods.  To  you,  who  have  served  so  long  in 
His  Majesty's  army,  a  blow,  in  the  way  of  punishment,  can 
be  no  great  novelty." 

"  Certainly  not,  as  respects  the  soldiers ;  but  I  did  not 
know  Indians  were  ever  flogged." 

"  That  is  because  you  never  happened  to  be  present  at 
the  ceremony — but,  this  is  Nick,  sure  enough ;  and  by  his 
trot  I  begin  to  think  the  fellow  has  some  message,  or  news." 

"  How  old  is  the  man,  captain  ?  Does  an  Indian  never 
break  down  ?" 

"  Nick  must  be  fairly  fifty,  now.  I  have  known  him  more 
than  half  that  period,  and  he  was  an  experienced,  and,  to 
own  the  truth,  a  brave  and  skilful  warrior,  when  we  first 
met.  I  rate  him  fifty,  every  day  of  it." 

By  this  time  the  new-comer  was  so  near,  that  the  conver 
sation  ceased,  all  standing  gazing  at  him,  as  he  drew  near, 
and  Maud  gathering  up  her  hair,  with  maiden  bash  fulness, 
though  certainly  Nick  was  no  stranger.  As  for  Little 
Smash,  she  waddled  off*  to  proclaim  the  news  to  the  younger 
Pliny,  Mari',  and  Great  Smash,  all  of  whom  were  still  in 
the  kitchen  of  the  Hut,  flourishing,  sleek  and  glistening. 

Soon  after,  Nick  arrived.  He  came  up  the  Knoll  on  his 
loping  trot,  never  stopping  until  he  was  within  five  or  six 
yards  of  the  captain,  when  he  suddenly  halted,  folded  his 
arms,  and  stood  in  a  composed  attitude,  lest  he  should  be 
tray  a  womanish  desire  to  tell  his  story.  He  did  not  even 
pant,  but  appeared  as  composed  and  unmoved,  as  if  he.  had 
walked  the  half-mile  he  had  been  seen  to  pass  over  on  a 
trot. 

"Sago  —  Sago,"  cried  the  captain,  heartily  —  "  you  are 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  61 

welcome  back,  Nick ;  I  am  glad  to  see  you  still  so  ac 
tive." 

Sago"— answered  the  guttural  voice  of  the  Indian,  who 

nodded  his  head. 

'•  What  will  you  have  to  refresh  you,  after  such  a  jour 
ney,  Nick — our  trees  give  us  good  cider,  now." 

"  Santa  Cruz  better," — rejoined  the  sententious  Tusca- 
rora. 

"  Santa  Cruz  is  certainly  stronger"  answered  the  captain 
laughing,  "  and,  in  that  sense,  you  may  find  it  better.  You 
shall  have  a  glass,  as  soon  as  we  go  to  the  house.  What 
news  do  you  bring,  that  you  come  in  so  fast  ?" 

"  Glass  won't  do.  Nick  bring  news  worth  jug.  Squaw 
give  two  jug  for  Nick's  news.  Is  it  barg'in?" 

"  I !"  cried  Mrs.  Willoughby — "  what  concern  can  I  have 
with  your  news.  My  daughters  are  both  with  me,  and 
Heaven  be  praised !  both  are  well.  What  can  I  care  for 
your  news,  Nick  ?" 

"  Got  no  pap-poose  but  gal  ?  T'ink  you  got  boy— officer 
— great  chief — up  here,  down  yonder— over  dere." 

"  Robert ! — Major  Willoughby  1  What  can  you  have  to 
tell  me  of  my  son  ?" 

"  Tell  all  about  him,  for  one  jug.  Jug  out  yonder ;  Nick's 
story  out  here.  One  good  as  t'other." 

"  You  shall  have  all  you  ask,  Nick." — These  were  not 
temperance  days,  when  conscience  took  so  firm  a  stand 
between  the  bottle  and  the  lips. — "  You  shall  have  all  you 
ask,  Nick,  provided  you  can  really  give  me  good  accounts 
of  my  noble  boy.  Speak,  then  ;  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"  Say  you  see  him  in  ten,  five  minute.  Sent  Nick  before 
to  keep  moder  from  too  much  cry." 

An  exclamation  from  Maud  followed ;  then  the  ardent 
girl  was  seen  rushing  down  the  lawn,  her  hat  thrown  aside, 
and  her  bright  fair  hair  again  flowing  in  ringlets  on  her 
shoulders.  She  flew  rather  than  ran,  in  the  direction  of  the 
mill,  where  the  figure  of  Robert  Willoughby  was  seen  rush 
ing  forward  to  meet  her.  Suddenly  the  girl  stopped,  threw 
herself  on  a  log,  and  hid  her  face.  In  a  few  minutes  sho 
was  locked  in  her  brother's  arms.  Neither  Mrs.  Willoughby 
nor  Beulah  imitated  this  impetuous  movement  on  the  part 
of  Maud  ;  but  the  captain,  chaplain,  and  even  Jamie  Allen, 
VOL.  I.— 6 


62  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

hastened  down  the  road  to  meet  and  welcome  the  young 
major.     Ten  minutes  later.  Bob  Willoughby  was  folded  to 
his  mother's  heart ;  then  came  Beulah's  turn ;  after  which, 
the  news  having  flown  through  the  household,  the  young 
man  had  to  receive  the  greetings  of  Mart',  both  the  Smashes, 
the  younger  Pliny,  and  all  the  dogs.    A  tumultuous  quarter 
of  an  hour  brought  all  round,  again,  to  its  proper  place,  and 
restored  something  like  order  to  the  Knoll.     Still  an  excite 
ment  prevailed  the  rest  of  the  day,  for  the  sudden  arrival 
of  a  guest  always  produced  a  sensation  in  that  retired  set 
tlement  ;  much  more  likely,  then,  was  the  unexpected  ap 
pearance  of  the  only  son  and  heir  to  create  one.    As  every 
body  bustled  and  was  in  motion,  the  whole  family  was  in 
the  parlour,  and  major  Willoughby  was  receiving  the  grate 
ful  refreshment  of  a  delicious  cup  of  tea,  before  the  sun  set. 
The  chaplain  would  have  retired  out  of  delicacy,  but  to  this 
the  captain  would  not  listen ;  he  would  have  everything 
proceed  as  if  the  son  were  a  customary  guest,  though  it 
might  have  been  seen  by  the  manner  in  which  his  mother's 
affectionate  eye  was  fastened  on  his  handsome  face,  as  well 
as  that  in  which  his  sister  Beulah,  in  particular,  hung  about 
him,  under  the  pretence  of  supplying  his  wants,  that  the 
young  man  was  anything  but  an  every-day  inmate. 

"  How  the  lad  has  grown  !"  said  the  captain,  tears  of 
pride  starting  into  his  eyes,  in  spite  of  a  very  manful  reso 
lution  to  appear  composed  and  soldier-like. 

11 1  was  about  to  remark  that  myself,  captain,"  observed 
the  chaplain.  "  I  do  think  Mr.  Robert  has  got  to  his  full 
six  feet — every  inch  as  tall  as  you  are  yourself,  my  good 
sir." 

"  That  is  he,  Woods — and  taller  in  one  sense.  He  is  a 
major,  already,  at  twenty-seven  ;  it  is  a  step  I  was  not  able 
to  reach  at  near  twice  the  age." 

"  That  is  owing,  my  dear  sir,"  answered  the  son  quickly, 
and  with  a  slight  tremor  in  his  voice,  "  to  your  not  having 
as  kind  a  father  as  has  fallen  to  my  share — or  at  least  one 
not  as  well  provided  with  the  means  of  purchasing." 

"  Say  none  at  all,  Bob,  and  you  can  wound  no  feeling, 
while  you  will  tell  the  truth.  My  father  died  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  when  I  was  a  school-boy ;  I  owed  my  ensigncy  to 
my  uncle  Sir  Hugh,  the  father  of  the  present  Sir  Harry 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  63 

Willoughby  ;  after  that  I  owed  each  step  to  hard  and  long 
service.  Your  mother's  I'-gacir.s  have  helped  you  along,  at 
a  faster  rate,  though  1  do  trust  there  has  been  some  merit 
to  aid  in  the  prcfrmx'iit.'' 

"  Speaking  »>f  Sir  Harry  Willoughby,  sir,  reminds  me  of 
one  part  of  my  errand  to  the  Hut,"  said  the  major,  glancing 

•  towards  his  father,  as  if  to  prepare  him  for  somo 
unexpected  intelligence. 

'•  What  of  my  cousin?"  demanded  the  captain,  calmly. 
44  Wo  have  not  met  in  thirty  years,  and  are  the  next  thing 
to  strangers  to  each  other.  Has  he  made  that  silly  match 
of  which  I  heard  something  when  last  in  York?  Has  he 
disinherited  his  daughter  as  he  threatened?  Use  no  reserve 

•  mr  friend  Woods  is  one  of  the  family." 

"  Sir  Harry  Willoughby  is  not  married,  sir,  but  dead." 
11  Dead  !"  repeated  the  captain,  setting  down  his  cup,  liko 
one  who  received  a  sudden  shock.     "  I  hope  not  without 
having  been  reconciled  to  his  daughter,  and  providing  for 
her  large  family  f 

"  He  died  in  her  arms,  and  escaped  the  consequences  of 
his  silly  intention  to  marry  his  own  housekeeper.  With 
one  material  exception,  he  has  left  Mrs.  Bowater  his  whole 
fortune." 

The  captain  sat  thoughtful,  for  some  time  ;  every  one  else 
being  silent  and  attentive.  But  the  mother's  feelings  piompt- 
ed  her  to  inquire  as  to  the  nature  of  the  exception. 

"  Why,  mother,  contrary  to  all  my  expectations,  and  I 
may  say  wishes,  he  has  left  me  twenty-five  thousand  pounds 
in  the  fives.  I  only  hold  the  money  as  my  father's  trustee." 

"  You  do  no  such  thing,  Master  Bob,  I  can  tell  you  !"  said 
the  captain,  with  emphasis. 

The  son  looked  at  the  father,  a  moment,  as  if  to  see  whe 
ther  he  was  understood,  and  then  he  proceeded — 

"  I  presume  you  remember,  sir,"  said  the  major,  "  that 
you  are  the  heir  to  the  title?" 

"  1  have  not  forgot  that,  major  Willoughby  ;  but  what  is 
an  empty  baronetcy  to  a  happy  husband  and  father  liko 
me,  hore  in  the  wilds  of  America  ?  Were  I  still  in  the  army, 
and  a  colonel,  the  thing  might  be  of  use;  as  I  am,  I  would 
rather  have  a  tolerable  road  from  this  place  to  the  Mohawk, 
than  the  duchy  of  Norfolk,  without  the  estate." 


64  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Estate  there  is  none,  certainly,"  returned  the  major,  in 
a  tone  of  a  little  disappointment,  "  except  the  twenty-five 
thousand  pounds  ;  unless  you  include  that  which  you  possess 
\vhere  you  are ;  not  insignificant,  by  the  way,  sir." 

"  It  will  do  well  enough  for  old  Hugh  Willoughby,  late  a 
captain  in  His  Majesty's  23d  Regiment  of  Foot,  but  not  so 
well  for  Sir  Hugh.  No,  no,  Bob.  Let  the  baronetcy  sleep 
a\vhile ;  it  has  been  used  quite  enough  for  the  last  hundred 
years  or  more.  Out  of  this  circle,  there  are  probably  not 
ten  persons  in  America,  who  know  that  1  have  any  claims 
to  it." 

The  major  coloured,  and  he  played  with  the  spoon  of  his 
empty  cup,  stealing  a  glance  or  two  around,  before  he  an 
swered. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir  Hugh — my  dear  father,  I  mean 
— but — to  own  the  truth,  never  anticipating  such  a  decision 
on  your  part,  I  have  spoken  of  the  thing  to  a  good  many 
friends — I  dare  say,  if  the  truth  were  known,  I've  called  you 
the  baronet,  or  Sir  Hugh,  to  others,  at  least  a  dozen  times." 
"  Well,  should  it  be  so,  the  thing  will  be  forgotten.  A 
parson  can  be  unfrocked,  Woods,  and  a  baronet  can  be  un- 
baroneted,  I  suppose." 

"  But,  Sir  William" — so  everybody  called  the  well-known 
Sir  William  Johnson,  in  the  colony  of  New  York — "  But, 
Sir  William  found  it  useful,  Willoughby,  and  so,  I  dare  say, 
will  his  son  and  successor,  Sir  John,"  observed  the  attentive 
wife  and  anxious  mother;  "and  if  you  are  not  now  in  the 
army,  Bob  is.  It  will  be  a  good  thing  for  our  son  one  day, 
and  ought  not  to  be  lost." 

"  Ah,  I  see  how  it  is,  Beulah ;  your  mother  has  no  notion 
to  lose  the  right  of  being  called  Lady  Willoughby." 

"  I  am  sure  my  mother,  sir,  wishes  to  be  'called  nothing 
that  does  not  become  your  wife ;  if  you  remain  Mr.  Hugh 
Willoughby,  she  will  remain  Mrs.  Hugh  Willough'uy.  But 
papa,  it  might  be  useful  to  Bob." 

Beulah  was  a  great  favourite  with  the  captain,  Maud  be 
ing  only  his  darling;  he  listened  always  to  whatever  the 
former  said,  therefore,  with  indulgence  and  respect.  He 
often  told  the  chaplain  that  his  daughter  Beulah  had  the  true 
feelings  of  her  sex,  possessing  a  sort  of  instinct  for  whatever 
was  right  and  becoming,  in  woman. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  G5 

"Well,  U..b  may  have  the  baronetcy,  thru,"  ho  said, 
smiling.  "Major  Sir  Robert  Willoughby  will  not  sound 
amiss  in  a  di.-spatch." 

"But,  Bob  cannot  have  it,  father,"  exclaimed  Maud  — 
'•  N«i  one  can  have  it  but  you;  and  it's  a  pity  it  should  be 
lost." 

"  Lot  him  wait,  then,  until  I  am  out  of  the  way ;  when  he 
may  claim  his  own." 

"  Can  that  be  done?"  inquired  the  mother,  to  whom  no 
thing  was  without  interest  that  affected  her  children.  "  How 
is  it,  Mr.  Woods  ? — may  a  title  be  dropped,  and  then  picked 
up  again  1 — how  is  this,  Robert  ?" 

"  1  believe  it  may,  my  dear  mother — it  will  always  exist, 
so  long  as  there  is  an  heir,  and  my  father's  disrelish  for  it 
will  not  be  binding  on  me." 

"  Oh  !  in  that  case,  then,  all  will  come  right  in  the  end — 
though,  as  your  father  does  not  want  it,  I  wish  you  could 
have  it,  now." 

This  was  said  with  the  most  satisfied  air  in  the  world,  as 
if  the  speaker  had  no  possible  interest  in  the  matter  herself, 
and  it  closed  the  conversation,  for  that  time.  It  was  not 
easy  to  keep  up  an  interest  in  anything  that  related  to  the 
family,  where  Mrs.  Willoughby  was  concerned,  in  which 
heart  did  not  predominate.  A  baronetcy  was  a  considerable 
dignity  in  the  colony  of  New  York  in  the  year  of  our  Lord, 
1775,  and  it  gave  its  possessor  far  more  importance  than  it 
would  have  done  in  England.  In  the  whole  colony  there 
was  but  one,  though  a  good  many  were  to  be  found  Ifurther 
south ;  and  he  was  known  as  "  Sir  John,"  as,  in  England, 
Lord  Rockingham,  or,  in  America,  at  a  later  day,  La  Fayette, 
was  known  as  "  The  Marquis."  Under  such  circumstances, 
then,  it  would  have  been  no  trifling  sacrifice  to  an  ordinary 
woman  to  forego  the  pleasure  of  being  called  "  my  lady.' 
But  the  sacrifice  cost  our  matron  no  pain,  no  regrets,  no 
thought  even.  The  same  attachments  which  made  her 
happy,  away  from  the  world,  in  the  wilderness  where  she 
dwelt,  supplanted  all  other  feelings,  and  left  her  no  room, 
or  leisure,  to  think  of  such  vanities.  When  the  discourse 
changed,  it  was  understood  that  "  Sir  Hugh"-  was  not  to  be 
"  Sir  Hugh,"  and  that  "  Sir  Robert""  must  bide  his  time. 
"  Where  did  you  fall  in  with  the  Tuscarora,  Bob?"  sud- 
6* 


66  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

denly  asked  the  captain,  as  much  to  bring  up  another  sub 
ject,  as  through  curiosity.  "  The  fellow  had  been  so  long 
away,  I  began  to  think  we  should  n^ver  see  him  again." 

"  He  tells  me,  sir,  he  has  been  on  a  war  path,  somewhere 
out  among  the  western  savages.  It  seems  these  Indians 
fight  among  themselves,  from  time  to  time,  and  Nick  has 
been  trying  to  keep  his  hand  in.  I  found  him  down  at 
Canajoharie,  and  took  him  for  a  guide,  though  he  had  the 
honesty  to  own  he  was  on  the  point  of  coming  over  here, 
had  I  not  engaged  him." 

"  I  '11  answer  for  it  he  didn't  tell  you  that,  until  you  had 
paid  him  for  the  job." 

"  Why,  to  own  the  truth,  he  did  not,  sir.  He  pretended 
something  about  owing  money  in  the  village,  and  got  his 
pay  in  advance.  I  learned  his  intentions  only  when  we 
were  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Hut." 

"  I  'm  glad  to  find,  Bob,  that  you  give  the  place  its  proper 
name.  How  gloriously  Sir  Hugh  Willoughby,  Bart.,  of 
The  Hut,  Tryon  county,  New  York,  would  sound,  Woods  ! 
— Did  Nick  boast  of  the  scalps  he  has  taken  from  the  Car 
thaginians  ?" 

"  He  lays  claim  to  three,  I  believe,  though  I  have  seen 
none  of  his  trophies." 

"  The  Roman  hero  ! — Yet,  I  have  known  Nick  rather  a 
dangerous  warrior.  He  was  out  against  us,  in  some  of  my 
earliest  service,  and  our  acquaintance  was  made  by  my 
saving  his  life  from  the  bayonet  of  one  of  my  own  grena 
diers.  I  thought  the  fellow  remembered  the  act  for  some 
years ;  but,  in  the  end,  I  believe  I  flogged  all  the  gratitude 
out  of  him.  His  motives,  now,  are  concentrated  in  the  little 
island  of  Santa  Cruz." 

"  Here  he  is,  father,"  said  Maud,  stretching  her  light, 
flexible  form  out  of  a  window.  "  Mike  and  the  Indian  are 
seated  at  the  lower  spring,  with  a  jug  between  them,  and 
appear  to  be  in  a  deep  conversation." 

"  Ay,  I  remember  on  their  first  acquaintance,  that  Mike 
mistook  Saucy  Nick,  for  Old  Nick.  The  Indian  was  in 
dignant  for  a  while,  at  being  mistaken  for  the  Evil  Spirit, 
but  the  worthies  soon  found  a  bond  of  union  between  them, 
and,  before  six  months,  he  and  the  Irishman  became  sworn 
friends.  It  is  said  whenever  two  human  beings  love  a 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  67 

common  principle,  that  it  never  fails  to  make  them  firm 
allies." 

"  And  what  was  the  prnciple,  in  this  case,  captain  WiU 
loti-hby  r  inquired  the  chaplain,  with  curiosity. 

••  S.snta  Cm/..  Mike  renounced  whiskey  altogether,  after 
he  came  to  America,  and  took  to  rum.  As  for  Nick,  he 
was  never  so  vulgar  as  to  find  pleasure  in  the  former 
Jiqnor." 

The  whole  party  had  gathered  to  the  windows,  while  tho 
discourse  was  proceeding,  and  looking  out,  each  individual 
saw  Mike  and  his  friend,  in  the  situation  described  hy  Maud. 
The  two  amateur* — connoisseurs  would  not  be  misapplied, 
cither — had  seated  themselves  at  the  brink  of  a  spring  of 
delicious  water;  and  removing  the  corn-cob  that  Pliny  the 
younger  had  felt  it  to  be  classical  to  affix  to  the  nozzle  of  a 
quart  jug,'had,  some  time  before,  commenced  the  delightful 
recreation  of  sounding  the  depth,  not  of  the  spring,  but  of 
the  vessel.  As  respects  the  former,  Mike,  who  was  a  wag 
in  his  way,  had  taken  a  hint  from  a  practice  said  to  be  com 
mon  in  Ireland,  called  "  potatoe  and  point,"  which  means 
to  eat  the  potatoe  and  point  at  the  butter;  declaring  that 
"  rum  and  p'int"  was  every  bit  as  entertaining  as  a  "  p'int 
of  rum."  On  this  principle,  then,  with  a  broad  grin  on  a 
face  that  opened  from  ear  to  ear  whenever  he  laughed,  tho 
county  Leitrim-man  would  gravely  point  his  finger  at  the 
water,  in  a  sort  of  mock-homage,  and  follow  up  the  move 
ment  with  such  a  suck  at  the  nozzle,  as,  aided  by  the  efforts 
•k,  soon  analyzed  the  upper  half  of  the  liquor  that  had 
entered  by  that  very  passage.  All  this  time,  conversation 
did  not  flag,  and,  as  the  parties  grew  warm,  confidence  in- 
cr<-a<e<l,  though  reason  sensibly  diminished.  As  a  part  of 
this  discourse  will  have  some  bearing  on  what  is  to  follow, 
it  may  be  in  place  to  relate  it,  here. 

"  Yer'e  a  jewel,  ye  be,  oi/Id  Nick,  or  young  Nick  !"  cried 
Mike,  in  an  ecstasy  of  friendship,  just  after  he  had  com 
pleted  his  first  half-pint.  "  Yer'e  as  wilrome  at  the  Huts, 
as  if  ye  owned  thim,  and  I  love  ye  as  I  did  my  own  bro 
ther,  More  I  left  the  county  Leitrim — paioe  to  his  sowl  !" 

"  He  dead?"  asked  Nick,  sententiously ;  for  he  had  lived 
enough  among  the  pale-faces  to  have  some  notions  of  their 
theory  about  the  soul. 


68  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  That's  more  than  I  know — but,  living  or  dead,  the  man 
must  have  a  sovvl,  ye  understand,  Nicholas.  A  human 
crathure  widout  a  sowl,  is  what  I  call  a  heretick ;  and  none 
of  the  O'Hearns  ever  came  to  that." 

Nick  was  tolerably  drunk,  but  by  no  means  so  far  gone, 
that  he  had  not  manners  enough  to  make  a  grave,  and  some 
what  dignified  gesture  ;  which  was  as  much  as  to  say  he  was 
familiar  with  the  subject. 

"  All  go  ole  fashion  here?"  he  asked,  avoiding  every  ap 
pearance  of  curiosity,  however. 

"  That  does  it — that  it  does,  Nicholas.  All  goes  ould 
enough.  The  captain  begins  to  get  ould;  and  the  missus  is 
ouldcr  than  she  used  to  be;  and  Joel's  wife  looks  a  hundred, 
though  she  isn't  t'irty  ;  and  Joel,  himself,  the  spalpeen — he 
looks — "  a  gulp  at  the  jug  stopped  the  communication. 

"  Dirty,  too  ?"  added  the  sententious  Tuscarora,  who  did 
not  comprehend  more  than  half  his  friend  said. 

"  Ay,  dir-r-ty — he's  always  that.  He's  a  dirthy  fellow, 
that  thinks  his  yankee  charactur  is  above  all  other  things." 

Nick's  countenance  became  illuminated  with  an  expres 
sion  nowise  akin  to  that  produced  by  rum,  and  he  fastened 
on  his  companion  one  of  his  fiery  gazes,  which  occasionally 
seemed  to  penetrate  to  the  centre  of  the  object  looked  at. 

"  Why  pale-face  hate  one  anoder?  Why  Irishman  don't 
love  yankee  ?" 

"  Och !  love  the  crathure,  is  it?  You'd  bctther  ask  me  to 
love  a  to'd"  —  for  so  Michael  would  pronounce  the  word 
*  toad.'  "  What  is  there  to  love  about  him,  but  skin  and 
bone  !  I'd  as  soon  love  a  skilitcn.  Yes — an  immortal  skiliten." 

Nick  made  another  gesture,  and  then  he  endeavoured  to 
reflect,  like  one  who  had  a  grave  business  in  contemplation. 
The  Santa  Cruz  confused  his  brain,  but  the  Indian  never 
entirely  lost  his  presence  of  mind ;  or  never,  at  least,  so 
long  as  he  could  either  see  or  walk. 

"  Don't  like  him"— rejoined  Nick.     "  Like  anybody  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  does — I  like  the  capt'in — och,  Tie's  a  jon- 
tleman — and  I  likes  the  missus  ;  she's  a  laddy — and  I  likes 
Miss  Beuly,  who's  a  swate  young  woman — and  then  there's 
Miss  Maud,  who's  the  delight  of  my  eyes.  Fegs,  but  isn't 
fthe  a  crathure  to  relish  !" 

Mike  spoke  like  a  good  honest  fellow,  as  he  was  at  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  69 

bottom,  with  all  his  heart  and  soul.  The  Indian  did  not 
seem  pleased,  but  he  made  no  answer. 

"  You've  been  in  the  wars  then,  Nick  ?"  asked  the  Irish 
man,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Yes — Nick  been  chief  ag'in — take  scalps." 

"  Ach  !  That's  a  mighty  ugly  thrade!  If  you'd  tell  'em 
that  in  Ireland,  they'd  not  think  it  a  possibility." 

"  No  like  fight  in  Ireland,  hah  ?" 

"  I'll  not  say  that — no,  I'll  not  say  that ;  for  many's  the 
jollification  at  which  the  fighting  is  the  chafe  amusement. 
But  we  likes  thumping  on  the  head — not  skinning  it." 

"  That  your  fashion — my  fashion  take  scalp.  You  thump; 
I  skin — which  best  ?" 

"  Augh  !  skinnin'  is  a  dreadthful  operation  ;  but  shillaleh- 
work  comes  nately  and  nat'rally.  How  many  of  these  said 
scalps,  now,  may  ye  have  picked  up,  Nick,  in  yer  last 
journey  ?" 

"  T'ree — all  man  and  woman — no  pappoose.  One  big 
enough  make  two;  so  call  him  four.11 

"  Oh !  Divil  burn  ye,  Nick ;  but  there's  a  spice  of  your 
namesake  in  ye,  aftherall.  T'ree  human  crathures  skinned, 
and  you  not  satisfied,  and  so  ye'll  chait  a  bit  to  make  'em 
four !  D'ye  never  think,  now,  of  yer  latther  ind  ?  D'ye 
never  confess?" 

"  T'ink  every  day  of  dat.  Hope  to  find  more,  before  last 
day  come.  Plenty  scalp  here;  ha,  Mike?" 

This  was  said  a  little  incautiously,  perhaps,  but  it  was 
said  under  a  strong  native  impulse.  The  Irishman,  however, 
was  never  very  logical  or  clear-headed ;  and  three  gills  of 
rum  had,  by  no  means,  helped  to  purify  his  brain.  He 
heard  the  word  "  plenty,"  knew  he  was  well  fed  and  warmly 
clad,  and  just  now,  that  Santa  Cruz  so  much  abounded,  tho 
term  seemed  peculiarly  applicable. 

"  It's  a  plinthiful  place  it  is,  is  this  very  manor.  There'? 
all  sorts  of  things  in  it  that's  wanted.  There's  food  and 
raiment,  and  cattle,  and  grain,  and  porkers,  and  praichinir — 
yes,  divil  burn  it,  Nick,  but  there's  what  goes  for  praiching, 
though  it's  no  more  like  what  we  calls  praiching  than  yer'e 
like  Miss  Maud  in  comeliness,  and  ye'll  own,  yourself,  Nick, 
ycr'e  no  beauty." 

"  Got  handsome  hair,"  said  Nick,  surlily — "  How  she 
look  widout  scalp  ?" 


70  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  The  likes  of  her,  is  it !  Who  ever  saw  one  of  her  beauthy 
without  the  finest  hair  that  ever  was !  What  do  you  get  for 
your  scalps? — are  they  of  any  use  when  you  find  'em?" 

"  Bring  plenty  bye'm  bye.  Whole  country  glad  to  see 
him  before  long — den  beavers  get  pond  ag'in." 

"  How's  that — how's  that,  Indian  ?  Baiver  get  pounded  ? 
There's  no  pound,  hereabouts,  and  baivers  is  not  an  animal 
to  be  shut  up  like  a  hog !" 

Nick  perceived  that  his  friend  was  past  argumentation, 
and  as  he  himself  was  approaching  the  state  when  the 
drunkard  receives  delight  from  he  knows  not  what,  it  is 
unnecessary  to  relate  any  more  of  the  dialogue.  The  jug 
was  finished,  each  man  very  honestly  drinking  his  pint,  and 
as  naturally  submitting  to  its  consequences ;  and  this  so 
much  the  more  because  the  two  were  so  engrossed  with  the 
rum  that  both  forgot  to  pay  that  attention  to  the  spring  that 
might  have  been  expected  from  its  proximity. 


CHAPTER    V. 

The  soul,  my  lord,  is  fashioned — like  the  lyre. 

Strike  one  chord  suddenly,  and  others  vibrate. 

Your  name  abruptly  mentioned,  casual  words 

Of  comment  on  your  deeds,  praise  from  your  uncle, 

News  from  the  armies,  talk  of  your  return, 

A  word  let  fall  touching  your  youthful  passion, 

Suffused  her  cheek,  call'd  to  her  drooping  eye 

A  momentary  lustre,  made  her  pulse 

Leap  headlong,  and  her  bosom  palpitate. 

HlLLHOUSE. 

THE  approach  of  night,  at  sea  and  in  a  wilderness,  has 
always  something  more  solemn  in  it,  than  on  land  in  the 
centre  of  civilization.  As  the  curtain  is  drawn  before  his 
eyes,  the  solitude  of  the  mariner  is  increased,  while  even  his 
sleepless  vigilance  seems,  in  a  measure,  baffled,  by  the 
manner  in  which  he  is  cut  off  from  the  signs  of  the  hour. 
Thus,  too,  in  the  forest,  or  in  an  isolated  clearing,  the  mys 
teries  of  the  woods  are  deepened,  and  danger  is  robbed  of 
its  forethought  and  customary  guards.  That  evening,  Major 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  71 

Willoughby  stood  at  a  window  with  an  arm  round  the  slen 
der  \vai>t  of  1  {mini),  Maud  standing  a  little  aloof;  and,  as  tho 
twilight  retired,  leaving  the  shadows  of  evening  to  thicken 
on  the  forest  that  lay  within  a  few  hundred  feet  of  that  side 
of  the  Hut,  and  casting  a  i^looin  over  the  whole  of  the  quiet 
solitude,  he  felt  the  force  of  the  feeling  just  mentioned,  in  a 
!)••  had  never  before  experienced. 

"  This  is  a  tcry  retired  abode,  my  sisters,"  he  said, 
thoughtfully.  "  Do  my  father  and  mother  never  speak  of 
bringing  you  out  more  into  the  world  ?" 

"  They  take  us  to  New  York  every  winter,  now  father  is 
in  the  Assembly,"  quietly  answered  Beulah.  "  We  expected 
to  meet  you  there,  last  season,  and  were  greatly  disappointed 
that  you  did  not  come." 

"  My  regiment  was  sent  to  the  eastward,  as  you  know, 
and  having  just  received  my  new  rank  of  major,  it  would 
not  do  to  be  absent  at  the  moment.  Do  you  ever  see  any 
one  here,  besides  those  who  belong  to  the  manor?" 

"  Oh  !  yes" — exclaimed  Maud  eagerly — then  she  paused, 
as  if  sorry  she  had  said  anything ;  continuing,  after  a  little 
pause,  in  a  much  more  moderated  vein — "  I  mean  occasion 
ally.  No  doubt  the  place  is  very  retired." 

"  Of  what  characters  are  your  visitors? — hunters,  trap 
pers,  settlers — savages  or  travellers?" 

Maud  did  not  answer ;  but,  Beulah,  after  waiting  a  moment 
for  her  sister  to  reply,  took  that  office  on  herself. 

"  Some  of  all,"  she  said,  "  though  few  certainly  of  the 
latter  class.  The  hunters  are  often  here ;  one  or  two  a 
month,  in  the  mild  season ;  settlers  rarely,  as  you  may  sup 
pose,  since  my  father  will  not  sell,  and  there  are  not  many 
about,  I  believe;  the  Indians  come  more  frequently,  though 
I  think  we  have  seen  less  of  them,  during  Nick's  absence, 
than  while  he  was  more  with  us.  Still  we  have  as  many  as 
a  hundred  in  a  year,  perhaps,  counting  the  women.  They 
come  in  parties,  you  know,  and  five  or  six  of  these  will 
make  that  number.  As  for  travellers,  they  are  rare ;  being 
generally  surveyors,  land-hunters,  or  perhaps  a  proprietor 
who  is  looking  up  his  estate.  We  had  two  of  the  last  in  the 
fall,  before  we  went  below." 

"  That  is  singular ;  and  yet  one  might  well  look  for  an 
estate  in  a  wilderness  like  this.  Who  were  your  proprie 
tors?" 


72  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  An  elderly  man,  and  a  young  one.  The  first  was  a  sort 
of  partner  of  the  late  Sir  William's,  I  believe,  who  has  a 
grant  somewhere  near  us,  for  which  he  was  searching.  His 
narns  was  Fonda.  The  other  was  one  of  the  Beekmans, 
who  has  lately  succeeded  his  father  in  a  property  of  consi 
derable  extent,  somewhere  at  no  great  distance  from  us,  and 
came  to  take  a  look  at  it.  They  say  he  has  quite  a  hundred 
thousand  acres,  in  one  body." 

"  And  did  he  find  his  land  ?  Tracts  of  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands,  are  sometimes  not  to  be  discovered." 

"  We  saw  him  twice,  going  and  returning,  and  he  was 
successful.  The  last  time,  he  was  detained  by  a  snow-storm, 
and  staid  with  us  some  days  —  so  long,  indeed,  that  he 
remained,  and  accompanied  us  out,  when  we  went  below. 
We  saw  much  of  him,  too,  last  winter,  in  town." 

"  Maud,  you  wrote  me  nothing  of  all  this !  Are  visiters 
of  this  sort  so  very  common  that  you  do  not  speak  of  them 
in  your  letters  ?" 

"Did  I  not? — Beulah  will  scarce  pardon  me  for  that. 
She  thinks  Mr.  Evert  Beekman  more  worthy  of  a  place  in 
a  letter,  than  I  do,  perhaps." 

"  I  think  him  a  very  respectable  and  sensible  young 
man,"  answered  Beulah  quietly,  though  there  was  a  deeper 
tint  on  her  cheek  than  common,  which  it  was  too  dark  to 
see.  "  I  am  not  certain,  however,  he  need  fill  much  space 
in  the  letters  of  either  of  your  sisters." 

"  Well,  this  is  something  gleaned  !"  said  the  major,  laugh 
ing — "  and  now,  Beulah,  if  you  will  only  let  out  a  secret  of 
the  same  sort  about  Maud,  I  shall  be  au  fait  of  all  the 
family  mysteries." 

"  All !"  repeated  Maud,  quickly — "  would  there  be  no 
thing  to  tell  of  a  certain  major  Willoughby,  brother  of 
mine?" 

"  Not  a  syllable.  I  am  as  heart-whole  as  a  sound  oak, 
and  hope  to  remain  so.  At  all  events,  all  I  love  is  in  this 
house.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  girls,  these  are  not  times  for 
a  soldier  to  think  of  anything  but  his  duty.  The  quarrel  is 
getting  to  be  serious  between  the  mother  country  and  her 
colonies." 

"  Not  so  serious,  brother,"  observed  Beulah,  earnestly, 
"  as  to  amount  to  that.  Evert  Beekman  thinks  there  will 


THE     IIUTTED     KNOLL.  73 

be  trouble,  but  he  docs  not  appear  to  fancy  it  will  go  as  far 
y  serious  violence." 

"  Evert  Beekfnan! — most  of  that  family  are  loyal,  I  be- 
lieve  ;  ho\v  is  it  with  this  Evert?" 

"  I  dare  say,  you  would  call  him  a  rebel"  answered  Maud, 
laughing,  for  now  Beulah  chose  to  be  silent,  leaving  h«-r 
sister  to  explain.  "  He  is  not  fiery;  but  he  calls  himself 
an  American,  with  emphasis;  and  that  is  saying  a  good 
deal,  when  it  means  he  is  not  an  Englishman.  Pray  what 
do  you  call  yourself,  Bob?" 

"  1  '• — Certainly  an  American  in  one  sense,  but  an  Eng 
lishman  in  another.  An  American,  as  my  father  was  a 
Cumberland-man,  and  an  Englishman  as  a  subject,  and  as 
connected  with  the  empire." 

"  As  St.  Paul  was  a  Roman.  Heigho  !— Well,  I  fear  I 
have  but  one  character — or,  if  I  have  two,  they  are  an 
American,  and  a  New  York  girl.  Did  I  dress  in  scarlet, 
as  you  do,  I  might  feel  English  too,  possibly." 

"  This  is  making  a  trifling  misunderstanding  too  serious," 
observed  Beulah.  "  Nothing  can  come  of  all  the  big  words 
that  have  been  used,  than  more  big  words.  I  know  that  is 
Evert  Beekman's  opinion." 

"  I  hope  you  may  prove  a  true  prophet,"  answered  the 
major,  once  more  buried  in  thought.  "  This  place  does 
seem  to  be  fearfully  retired  for  a  family  like  ours.  I  hope 
my  father  may  be  persuaded  to  pass  more  of  his  time  in 
New  York.  Does  he  ever  speak  on  the  subject,  girls,  or 
appear  to  have  any  uneasiness?" 

"Uneasiness  about  what?  The  place  is  health  itself; 
all  sorts  of  fevers,  and  agues,  and  those  things  being  quite 
unknown.  Mamma  says  the  toothache,  even,  cannot  be  found 
in  this  healthful  spot." 

"  That  is  lucky — and,  yet,  I  wish  captain  Willoughby-— 
Sir  Hugh  Willoughby  could  be  induced  to  live  more  in 
New  York.  Girls  of  your  time  of  life,  ought  to  be  in  tho 
way  of  seeing  the  world,  too." 

"  In  other  words,  of  seeing  admirers,  major  Bob,"  said 
Maud,  laughing,  and  bending  forward  to  steal  a  glance  in 
her  brother's  face.  "  Good  night.  Sir  Hugh  wishes  us  to 
send  you  into  his  library  when  we  can  spare  you,  and  my 
lady  has  sent  us  a  hint  that  it  is  ten  o'clock,  at  which  hour 
it  is  usual  for  sober  people  to  retire." 

VOL.  I.— 7. 


74  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

The  major  kissed  both  sisters  with  warm  affection  — 
Beulah  fancied  with  a  sobered  tenderness,  and  Maud  thought 
kindly — and  then  they  retired  to  join  their  mother,  while  he 
went  to  seek  his  father. 

The  captain  was  smoking  in  the  library,  as  a  room  of 
all-Aead-work  was  called,  in  company  with  the  chaplain. 
The  practice  of  using  tobacco  in  this  form,  had  grown  to  be 
so  strong  in  both  of  these  old  inmates  of  garrisons,  that  they 
usually  passed  an  hour,  in  the  recreation,  before  they  went 
to  bed.  Nor  shall  we  mislead  the  reader  with  any  notions 
of  fine-flavoured  Havana  segars  ;  pipes,  with  Virginia  cut, 
being  the  materials  employed  in  the  indulgence.  A  little 
excellent  Cogniac  and  water,  in  which  however  the  spring 
was  not  as  much  neglected,  as  in  the  orgies  related  in  the 
previous  chapter,  moistened  their  lips,  from  time  to  time, 
giving  a  certain  zest  and  comfort  to  their  enjoyments.  Just 
as  the  door  opened  to  admit  the  major,  he  was  the  subject 
of  discourse,  the  proud  parent  and  the  partial  friend  finding 
almost  an  equal  gratification  in  discussing  his  fine,  manly 
appearance,  good  qualities,  and  future  hopes.  His  presence 
was  untimely,  then,  in  one  sense;  though  he  was  welcome, 
and,  indeed,  expected.  The  captain  pushed  a  chair  to  his 
son,  and  invited  him  to  take  a  seat  near  the  table,  which 
held  a  spare  pipe  or  two,  a  box  of  tobacco,  a  decanter  of 
excellent  brandy,  a  pitcher  of  pure  water,  all  pleasant  com 
panions  to  the  elderly  gentlemen,  then  in  possession. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  too  much  of  a  maccaroni,  Bob,  to 
smoke,"  observed  the  smiling  father.  "  I  detested  a  pipe  at 
your  time  of  life ;  or  may  say,  I  was  afraid  of  it;  the  only 
smoke  that  was  in  fashion  among  our  scarlet  coats  being 
the  smoke  of  gunpowder.  Well,  how  comes  on  Gage,  and 
your  neighbours  the  Yankees?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  answered  the  major,  looking  behind  him,  to 
make  sure  that  the  door  was  shut — "  Why,  sir,  to  own  the 
truth,  my  visit,  here,  just  at  this  moment,  is  connected  with 
the  present  state  of  that  quarrel." 

Both  the  captain  and  the  chaplain  drew  the  pipes  from 
Iheir  mouths,  holding  them  suspended  in  surprise  and  atten 
tion. 

"  The  deuce  it  is  !"  exclaimed  the  former.  "  I  thought  I 
owed  this  unexpected  pleasure  to  your  affectionate  desire  to 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  75 

let  me  know  I  had  inherited  the  empty  honours  of  a  baron- 

"  That  was  one  motive,  sir,  but  the  least.  I  beg  you  to 
icmember  the  awkwardness  of  my  position,  as  a  king's 
oilicrr,  in  the  midst  of  enemies." 

"The  devil!  I  say,  parson,  this  exceeds  heresy  and 
schism  !  Do  you  call  lodging  in  your  father's  house,  major 
Willougkby,  being  in  the  midst  of  enemies?  This  is  rebel 
lion  against  nature,  and  is  worse  than  rebellion  against  the 
king." 

"  My  dear  father,  no  one  feels  more  secure  with  you, 
than  I  do ;  or,  even,  with  Mr.  Woods,  here.  But,  there  are 
others  besides  you  two,  in  this  part  of  the  world,  and  your 
very  settlement  may  not  be  sale  a  week  longer ;  probably 
would  not  be,  if  my  presence  in  it  were  known." 

Both  the  listeners,  now,  fairly  laid  down  their  pipes,  and 
the  smoke  began  gradually  to  dissipate,  as  it  might  have 
been  rising  from  a  field  of  battle.  One  looked  at  the  other, 
in  wonder,  and,  then,  both  looked  at  the  major,  in  curiosity. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  my  son?"  asked  the 
captain,  gravely.  "  Has  anything  new  occurred  to  compli 
cate  the  old  causes  of  quarrel  ?" 

"Blood  has,  at  length,  been  drawn,  sir;  open  rebellion 
has  commenced !" 

"  This  is  a  serious  matter,  indeed,  if  it  be  really  so.  But 
do  you  not  exaggerate  the  consequences  of  some  fresh  in 
discretion  of  the  soldiery,  in  firing  on  the  people?  Remem 
ber,  in  the  other  affair,  even  the  colonial  authorities  justified 
the  officers." 

"  This  is  a  very  different  matter,  sir.  Blood  has  not  been 
drawn  in  a  riot,  but  in  a  battle" 

"  Battle !  You  amaze  me,  sir  !  That  is  indeed  a  serious 
matter,  and  may  lead  to  most  serious  consequences !" 

"  The  Lord  preserve  us  from  evil  times,"  ejaculated  the 
chaplain,  "and  lead  us,  poor,  dependent  creatures  that  wo 
are,  into  the  paths  of  peace  and  quietness  !  Without  his 
grace,  we  are  the  blind  leading  the  blind." 
^  "  Do  you  mean,  major  Willoughby,  that  armed  and  dis 
ciplined  bodies  have  met  in  actual  conflict  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not  literally  so,  my  dear  father ;  but  the  minute- 
men  of  Massachusetts,  and  His  Majesty's  forces,  have  met 


76  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

and  fought.  This  I  know,  full  well ;  for  my  own  regiment 
was  in  the  field,  and,  I  hope  it  is  unnecessary  to  add,  that 
its  second  officer  was  not  absent." 

"  Of  course  these  minute-men — rabble  would  be  the  better 
word — could  not  stand  before  you?"  said  the  captain,  com 
pressing  his  lips,  under  a  strong  impulse  of  military  pride. 

Major  Willoughby  coloured,  and,  to  own  the  truth,  at  that 
moment  he  wished  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods,  if  not  literally  at 
the  devil,  at  least  safe  and  sound  in  another  room;  any 
where,  so  it  were  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  answer. 

"  Why,  sir,"  he  said,  hesitating,  not  to  say  stammering, 
notwithstanding  a  prodigious  effort  to  seem  philosophical 
and  calm — "  To  own  the  truth,  these  minute-fellows  are  not 
quite  as  contemptible  as  we  soldiers  would  be  apt  to  think. 
It  was  a  stone-wall  affair,  and  dodging  work ;  and,  so,  you 
know,  sir,  drilled  troops  wouldn't  have  the  usual  chance. 
They  pressed  us  pretty  warmly  on  the  retreat." 

"  Retreat  !  Major  Willoughby  !" 

"  I  called  it  retreat,  sure  enough ;  but  it  was  only  a  march 
i/V again,  afler  having  done  the  business  on  which  we  went 
out.  I  shall  admit,  I  say,  sir,  that  we  were  hard  pressed, 
until  reinforced" 

"  Reinforced,  my  dear  Bob  !  Your  regiment,  our  regi 
ment  could  not  need  a  reinforcement  against  all  the  Yankees 
in  New  England." 

The  major  could  not  abstain  from  laughing,  a  little,  at 
this  exhibition  of  his  father's  esprit  de  corps ;  but  native 
frankness,  and  love  of  truth,  compelled  him  to  admit  the 
contrary. 

"  It  did,  sir,  notwithstanding,"  he  answered  ;  "  and,  not 
to  mince  the  matter,  it  needed  it  confoundedly.  Some  of 
our  officers  who  have  seen  the  hardest  service  of  the  last 
war,  declare,  that  taking  the  march,  and  the  popping  work, 
and  the  distance,  altogether,  it  was  the  warmest  day  they 
remember.  Our  loss,  too,  was  by  no  means  insignificant, 
as  I  hope  you  will  believe,  when  you  know  the  troops  en 
gaged.  We  report  something  like  three  hundred  casual- 
lies." 

The  captain  did  not  answer  for  quite  a  minute.  All  this 
time  he  sat  thoughtful,  and  even  pale ;  for  his  mind  was 
teeming  with  the  pregnant  consequences  of  such  an  out- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  77 

break.  Then  IK?  desired  his  son  to  give  a  succinct,  but 
connected  history  of  the  whole  affair.  The  major  complied, 
beginning  his  narrative  with  an  account  of  the  general  state 
of  tin?  country,  and  concluding  it,  by  giving,  as  far  as  it  was 
r  mi,'  \\ii  --K.ii.tl  pride  and  political  fed- 

ings  were  too  deeply  involved  to  be  entirely  impartial,  a 
reasonably  just  account  of  the  particular  occurrence  al- 
ready  mentioned. 

The  even's  that  li  d  to,  and  the  hot  skirmish  which  it  is  the 
practice  of  the  country  to  call  the  Battle  of  Lexington,  and 
the  incidents  of  the  day  itself,  are  too  familiar  to  the  ordi 
nary  reader,  to  require  repetition  here.  The  major  explained 
all  the  military  points  very  clearly,  did  full  justice  to  the 
peweverance  and  darin-j  of  the  provincials,  as  he  called  his 
enemies — for,  an  American  himself,  he  would  not  term  them 
Americans — and  threw  in  as  many  explanatory  remarks  as 
he  could  think  of,  by  way  of  vindicating  the  "  march  in, 
again.*'  This  he  did,  too,  quite  as  much  out  of  filial  piety, 
as  out  of  self-love;  for,  to  own  the  truth,  the  captain's  mor 
tification,  as  a  soldier,  was  so  very  evident  as  to  give  his  son 
sensible  pain. 

"  The  effect  of  all  this,"  continued  the  major,  when  his 
narrative  of  the  military  movements  was  ended,  "  has  been 
to  raise  a  tremendous  feeling,  throughout  the  country,  and 
God  knows  what  is  to  follow." 

M  And  this  you  have  come  hither  to  tell  me,  Robert,"  said 
the  father,  kindly.  "  It  is  well  done,  ancl  as  I  would  have 
expected  from  you.  We  might  have  passed  the  summer, 
here,  and  not  have  heard  a  whisper  of  so  important  an 
event." 

"  Soon  after  the  affair — or,  as  soon  as  we  got  some  notion 
of  its  effect  on  the  provinces,  general  Gage  sent  me,  pri 
vately,  with  despatches  to  governor  Tryon.  lit,  governor 
Tryon,  was  aware  of  your  position  ;  and,  as  I  had  also  to 
communicate  the  death  of  Sir  Harry  Willoughby,  he  directed 
me  to  come  up  the  river,  privately,  have  an  interview  with 
Sir  John,  if  possible,  and  then  push  on,  under  a  feigned 
name,  and  communicate  with  you.  He  thinks,  now  Sir 
William  is  dead,  that  with  your  estate,  and  new  rank,  and 
local  influence,  you  might  be  very  serviceable  in  sustaining 
the  royal  cause  ;  for,  it  is  not  to  be  concealed  that  this  affair 
7* 


78  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

is  likely  to  take  the  character  of  an  open  and  wide-spread 
revolt  against  the  authority  of  the  crown." 

"  General  Tryon  does  me  too  much  honour,"  answered 
the  captain,  coldly.  "  My  estate  is  a  small  body  of  wild 
land ;  my  influence  extends  little  beyond  this  beaver  mea 
dow,  and  is  confined  to  my  own  household,  and  some  fifteen 
or  twenty  labourers ;  and  as  for  the  new  rank  of  which  you 
speak,  it  is  not  likely  the  colonists  will  care  much  for  that, 
if  they  disregard  the  rights  of  the  king.  Still,  you  have 
acted  like  a  son  in  running  the  risk  you  do,  Bob  ;  and  I  pray 
God  you  may  get  back  to  your  regiment,  in  safety." 

"  This  is  a  cordial  to  my  hopes,  sir ;  for  nothing  would 
pain  me  more  than  to  believe  you  think  it  my  duty,  because 
I  was  born  in  the  colonies,  to  throw  up  my  commission,  and 
take  side  with  the  rebels." 

"  I  do  not  conceive  that  to  be  your  duty,  any  more  than 
I  conceive  it  to  be  mine  to  take  sides  against  them,  because 
I  happened  to  be  born  in  England.  It  is  a  weak  view  of 
moral  obligations,  that  confines  them  merely  to  the  accidents 
of  birth,  and  birth-place.  Such  a  subsequent  state  of  things 
may  have  grown  up,  as  to  change  all  our  duties,  and  it  is 
necessary  that  we  discharge  them  as  they  are;  not  as  they 
may  have  been,  hitherto,  or  may  be,  hereafter.  Those  who 
clamour  so  much  about  mere  birth-place,  usually  have  no 
very  clear  sense  of  their  higher  obligations.  Over  our  birth 
we  can  have  no  control ;  while  we  are  rigidly  responsible 
for  the  fulfilment  of  obligations  voluntarily  contracted." 

"  Do  you  reason  thus,  captain?"  asked  the  chaplain,  with 
strong  interest — "  Now,  I  confess,  I  feel,  in  this  matter,  not 
only  very  much  like  a  native  American,  but  very  much 
like  a  native  Yankee,  in  the  bargain.  You  know  I  was  born 
in  the  Bay,  and — the  major  must  excuse  me — but,  it  ill-be 
comes  my  cloth  to  deceive — I  hope  the  major  will  pardon 
me — I — I  do  hope — " 

"  Speak  out,  Mr.  Woods,"  said  Robert  Willoughby, 
smiling — "  You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  your  old  friend 
the  major." 

"  So  I  thought — so  I  thought — well,  then,  I  was  glad- 
yes,  really  rejoiced  at  heart,  to  hear  that  my  countrymen, 
down-east,  there,  had  made  the  king's  troops  scamper." 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  used  any  such  terms,  sir,  in  con- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  79 

nection  with  the  manner  in  which  we  marched  in,  after  tho 
duty  we  went  out  on  was  performed,"  returned  the  young 
soldier,  a  little  stiflly.  "  I  suppose  it  is  natural  for  one 
Yankee  to  sympathize  with  another;  but,  my  father,  Mr. 
Is,  is  an  Old  England,  and  not  a  JVeic-England-man  ; 
and  In;  may  be  excused  if  he  feel  more  for  the  servants  of 
the  crown." 

"  Certainly,  rny  dear  major — certainly,  my  dear  Mr.  Ro 
bert — my  old  pupil,  and,  I  hope,  my  friend — all  this  is  true 
enough,  and  very  natural.  I  allow  captain  Willoughby  to 
wish  the  best  for  the  king's  troops,  while  I  wish  the  best  for 
my  own  countrymen," 

"  This  is  natural,  on  both  sides,  out  of  all  question,  though 
it  by  no  means  follows  that  it  is  right.  '  Our  country,  right 
or  wrong,'  is  a  high-sounding  maxim,  but  it  is  scarcely  the 
honest  man's  maxim.  Our  country,  after  all,  cannot  have 
nearer  claims  upon  us,  than  our  parents  for  instance ;  and 
who  can  claim  a  moral  right  to  sustain  even  his  own  father, 
in  error,  injustice,  or  crime  ?  No,  no — I  hate  your  pithy 
sayings  ;  they  commonly  mean  nothing  that  is  substantially 
good,  at  bottom." 

"  But  one's  country,  in  a  time  of  actual  war,  sir !"  said 
the  major,  in  a  tone  of  as  much  remonstrance  as  habit  would 
allow  him  to  use  to  his  own  father. 

"  Quite  true,  Bob ;  but  the  difficulty  here,  is  to  know 
which  is  one's  country.  It  is  a  family  quarrel,  at  the  best, 
and  it  will  hardly  do  to  talk  about  foreigners,  at  all.  It  is  the 
same  as  if  I  should  treat  Maud  unkindly,  or  harshly,  be 
cause  she  is  the  child  of  only  a  friend,  and  not  my  own 
natural  daughter.  As  God  is  my  judge,  Woods,  I  am  un 
conscious  of  not  loving  Maud  Meredith,  at  this  moment,  as 
tenderly  as  I  love  Beulah  Willoughby.  There  was  a  period, 
in  her  childhood,  when  the  playful  little  witch  had  most  of 
my  heart,  I  am  afraid,  if  the  truth  were  known.  It  is  use, 
and  duty,  then,  and  not  mere  birth,  that  ought  to  tie  our 
hearts." 

The  major  thought  it  might  very  well  be  that  one  child 
should  be  loved  more  than  another,  though  he  did  not  un 
derstand  how  there  could  bo  a  divided  allegiance.  Tho 
chaplain  looked  at  the  subject  with  views  still  more  narrow 
ed,  and  he  took  up  the  cudgels  of  argument  in  sober  earnest, 


80  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

conceiving  this  to  be  as  good  an  opportunity  as  another,  for 
disposing  of  the  matter. 

"  I  am  all  for  birth,  and  blood,  and  natural  ties,"  he  said, 
"  always  excepting  the  peculiar  claims  of  Miss  Maud,  whose 
case  is  sui  generis,  and  not  to  be  confounded  with  any 
other  case.  A  man  can  have  but  one  country,  any  more 
than  he  can  have  but  one  nature ;  and,  as  he  is  forced  to 
be  true  to  that  nature,  so  ought  he  morally  to  be  true  to 
that  country.  The  captain  says,  that  it  is  difficult  to  deter 
mine  which  is  one's  country,  in  a  civil  war ;  but  I  cannot 
admit  the  argument.  If  Massachusetts  and  England  get  to 
blows,  Massachusetts  is  my  country ;  if  Suffolk  and  Wor 
cester  counties  get  into  a  quarrel,  my  duty  calls  me  to 
Worcester,  where  I  was  born ;  and  so  I  should  carry  out 
the  principle  from  country  to  country,  county  to  county, 
town  to  town,  parish  to  parish  ;  or,  even  household  to  house 
hold." 

"  This  is  an  extraordinary  view  of  one's  duty,  indeed, 
my  dear  Mr.  Woods,"  cried  the  major,  with  a  good  deal  of 
animation ;  "  and  if  one-half  the  household  quarrelled  with 
the  other,  you  would  take  sides  with  that  in  which  you 
happened  to  find  yourself,  at  the  moment." 

"  It  is  an  extraordinary  view  of  one's  duty,  for  a  parson;" 
observed  the  captain.  "  Let  us  reason  backward  a  little, 
and  ascertain  where  we  shall  come  out.  You  put  the  head 
of  the  household  out  of  the  question.  Has  he  no  claims  ? 
Is  a  father  to  be  altogether  overlooked  in  the  struggle  be 
tween  the  children  1  Are  his  laws  to  be  broken — his  rights 
invaded — or  his  person  to  be  maltreated,  perhaps,  and  his 
curse  disregarded,  because  a  set  of  unruly  children  get  by 
the  ears,  on  points  connected  with  their  own  selfishness  ?" 

"  I  give  up  the  household,"  cried  the  chaplain,  "  for  the 
bible  settles  that ;  and  what  the  bible  disposes  of,  is  beyond 
dispute — '  Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that  thy  days 
may  be  long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth 
thee' — are  terrible  words,  and  must  not  be  disobeyed.  But 
the  decalogue  has  not  another  syllable  which  touches  the 
question.  '  Thou  shalt  not  kill,'  means  murder  only  ;  com 
mon,  vulgar  murder — and  « thou  shalt  not  steal,'  «  thou  shalt 
not  commit  adultery,'  &c.,  don't  bear  on  civil  war,  as  I  see. 
*  Remember  the  Sabbath  to  keep  it  holy' — '  Thou  shalt  not 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  81 

covet  the  ox  nor  the  ass' — *  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name 
of  the  Lord  thy  Gu>d  in  vain' — none  of  these,  not  one  of 
them,  bears,  at  all,  on  this  qu» -stion/' 

"  \\  i::!l  t!o  y.m  think  of  the  words  of  the  Saviour,  whore 
he  tells  us  to  '  render  unto  Ca-sar  the  things  which  are 
Ca ->nr's  .''  Has  Cocsar  no  rights  here?  Can  Massachusetts 
and  my  Lord  North  settle  their  quarrels  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  put  Cicsar  altogether  out  of  view?" 

The  chaplain  looked  down  a  moment,  pondered  a  little, 
nnd  then  he  came  up  to  the  attack,  again,  with  renewed 
ardour. 

"  Cocsar  is  out  of  the  question  here.  If  His  Majesty  will 
come  and  take  sides  with  us,  we  shall  be  ready  to  honour 
and  obey  him  ;  but  if  he  choose  to  remain  alienated  from  us, 
it  is  his  act,  not  ours." 

"  This  is  a  new  mode  of  settling  allegiance  !  If  G; 
will  do  as  we  wish,  he  shall  still  be  Cfrsar ;  but,  if  he  refuse 
to  do  as  we  wish,  then  down  with  C:rsar.  I  am  an  old 
soldier,  Woods,  and  while  I  feel  that  this  question  has  two 
sides  to  it,  my  disposition  to  reverence  and  honour  the  king 
is  still  strong." 

The  major  appeared  delighted,  and,  finding  matters  going 
on  so  favourably,  he  pleaded  fatigue  and  withdrew,  feeling 
satisfied  that,  if  his  father  fairly  got  into  a  warm  discussion, 
taking  the  loyal  side  of  the  question,  he  would  do  more  to 
confirm  himself  in  the  desired  views,  than  could  be  effected 
by  any  other  means.  By  this  time,  the  disputants  were  so 
warm  as  scarcely  to  notice  the  disappearance  of  the  young 
man,  the  argument  proceeding. 

The  subject  is  too  hackneyed,  and,  indeed,  possesses  too 
little  interest,  to  induce  us  to  give  more  than  an  outline  of 
what  passed.  The  captain  and  the  chaplain  belonged  to 
that  class  of  friends,  which  may  be  termed  argumentative. 
Their  constant  discussions  were  a  strong  link  in  the  chain 
of  esteem  ;  for  they  had  a  tendency  to  enliven  their  solitude, 
and  to  give  a  zest  to  lives  that,  without  thorn,  would  have 
been  exceedingly  monotonous.  Their  ordinary  subjects 
were  theology  and  war;  the  chaplain  having  some  pracii.-al 
knowledge  of  the  last,  and  the  captain  a  lively  disposition 
to  the  first.  In  these  discussions,  the  clergyman  was  good- 
natured,  and  the  soldier  polite ;  circumstances  that  tended 


82  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

to  render  them  far  more  agreeable  to  the  listeners  than  they 
might  otherwise  have  proved. 

On  the  present  occasion,  the  chaplain  rang  the  changes 
diligently,  on  the  natural  feelings,  while  his  friend  spoke 
most  of  the  higher  duties.  The  ad  captandum  part  of  the 
argument,  oddly  enough,  fell  to  the  share  of  the  minister  of 
the  church  ;  while  the  intellectual,  discriminating,  and  really 
logical  portion  of  the  subject,  was  handled  by  one  trained 
in  garrisons  and  camps,  with  a  truth,  both  of  ethics  and 
reason,  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  drilled  casuist. 
The  war  of  words  continued  till  past  midnight,  both  dis 
putants  soon  getting  back  to  their  pipes,  carrying  on  the 
conflict  amid  a  smoke  that  did  no  dishonour  to  such  a  well- 
contested  field.  Leaving  the  captain  and  his  friend  thus 
intently  engaged,  we  will  take  one  or  two  glimpses  into 
different  parts  of  the  house,  before  we  cause  all  our  charac 
ters  to  retire  for  the  night. 

About  the  time  the  battle  in  the  library  was  at  its  height, 
Mrs.  Willoughby  was  alone  in  her  room,  having  disposed 
of  all  the  cares,  and  most  of  the  duties  of  the  day.  The 
mother's  heart  was  filled  with  a  calm  delight  that  it  would 
have  been  difficult  for  herself  to  describe.  All  she  held  most 
dear  on  earth,  her  husband,  her  kind-hearted,  faithful,  long- 
loved  husband  ;  her  noble  son,  the  pride  and  joy  of  her 
heart ;  Beulah,  her  own  natural-born  daughter,  the  mild, 
tractable,  sincere,  true-hearted  child  that  so  much  resembled 
herself;  and  Maud,  the  adopted,  one  rendered  dear  by  soli 
citude  and  tenderness,  and  now  so  fondly  beloved  on  her 
own  account,  were  all  with  her,  beneath  her  own  roof, 
almost  within  the  circle  of  her  arms.  The  Hutted  Knoll 
was  no  longer  a  solitude ;  the  manor  was  not  a  wilderness 
to  her;  for  where  her  heart  was,  there  truly  was  her  trea 
sure,  also.  After  passing  a  few  minutes  in  silent,  but  de 
lightful  thought,  this  excellent,  guileless  woman  knelt  and 
poured  out  her  soul  in  thanksgivings  to  the  Being,  who  had 
surrounded  her  lot  with  so  many  blessings.  Alas !  little  did 
she  suspect  the  extent,  duration,  and  direful  nature  of  the 
evils  which,  at  that  very  moment,  were  pending  over  her 
native  country,  or  the  pains  that  her  own  affectionate  heart 
was  to  endure  !  The  major  had  not  suffered  a  whisper  of 
the  real  nature  of  his  errand  to  escape  him,  except  to  his 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  83 

father  and  the  chaplain  ;  and  we  will  now  follow  him  to  his 
apartment,  and  pass  ;i  minute,  tcte-ti-tMe,  with  tho  youn« 
soldier,  ere  ho  too  lays  his  head  on  his  pillow. 

A  couple  of  neat  rooms  were  prepared  and  furnished,  that 
were  held  sacred  to  tlie  uses  of  the  hen-.  They  were  known 
to  the  whole  household,  black  and  white,  as  the  "  youn" 
captain's  quarters;"  and  even  Maud  called  them,  in  her 
laughing  otl-handedness,  "Bob's  Sanctum."  Here,  then, 
the  major  found  everything  as  he  left  it  on  his  last  visit,  u 
twelvemonth  before ;  and  some  lew  things  that  were  stran 
gers  to  him,  in  the  bargain.  In  that  day,  toilets  covered 
with  muslin,  more  or  less  worked  and  ornamented,  were  a 
regular  appliance  of  every  bed-room,  of  a  better-class  house, 
throughout  America.  The  more  modern  "  Duchesses," 
"  Psyches,"  "  dressing-tables,*1  &c.  &c.,  of  our  own  extra 
vagant  and  benefit-of-the-act-taking  generation,  were  then 
unknown  ;  a  moderately -sized  glass,  surrounded  by  curved, 
gilded  ornaments,  hanging  against  the  wall,  above  the  said 
muslin-covered  table,  quite  as  a  matter  of  law,  if  not  of  do 
mestic  faith. 

As  soon  as  the  major  had  set  down  his  candle,  he  looked 
about  him,  as  one  recognises  old  friends,  pleased  at  renew 
ing  his  acquaintance  with  so  many  dear  and  cherished  ob 
jects.  The  very  playthings  of  his  childhood  were  there  ; 
and,  even  a  beautiful  and  long-used  hoop,  was  embellished 
with  ribbons,  by  some  hand  unknown  to  himself.  "Can 
this  be  my  mother?"  thought  the  young  man,  approaching 
to  examine  the  well-remembered  hoop,  which  he  had  never 
found  so  honoured  before;  "can  my  kind,*tendcr-heartcd 
mother,  who  never  will  forget  that  I  am  no  longer  a  child, 
can  she  have  really  done  this?  I  must  laugh  at  her,  to 
morrow,  about  it,  even  while  I  kiss  and  bless  her."  Then 
he  turned  to  the  toilet,  where  stood  a  basket,  filled  with 
different  articles,  which,  at  once,  he  understood  were  offer 
ings  to  himself.  Never  had  he  visited  tho  Hut  without  find 
ing  such  a  basket  in  his  room  at  night.  It  was  a  tender 
proof  how  truly  and  well  he  was  remembered,  in  his  ab 
sence. 

"  Ah  !"  thought  the  major,  as  ho  opened  a  bundle  of  knit 
lamb's-wool  stockings,  "  here  is  my  dear  mother  again,  with 
her  thoughts  about  damp  feet,  and  the  exposure  of  service. 


84  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

And  a  dozen  shirts,  too,  with  *  Beulah'  pinned  on  one  of 
them — how  the  deuce  does  the  dear  girl  suppose  I  am  to 
carry  away  such  a  stock  of  linen,  without  even  a  horse  to 
ease  me  of  a  bundle  ?  My  kit  would  be  like  that  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief,  were  I  to  take  away  all  that  these  dear 
relatives  design  for  me.  What's  this? — a  purse!  a  hand 
some  silken  purse,  too,  with  Beulah's  name  on  it.  Has 
Maud  nothing,  here  1  Why  has  Maud  forgotten  me  !  Ruffles, 
handkerchiefs,  garters — yes,  here  is  a  pair  of  my  good  mo 
ther's  own  knitting,  but  nothing  of  Maud's — Ha  !  what  have 
we  here  ?  As  I  live,  a  beautiful  silken  scarf — netted  in  a 
way  to  make  a  whole  regiment  envious.  Can  this  have 
been  bought,  or  has  it  been  the  work  of  a  twelvemonth] 
No  name  on  it,  either.  Would  my  father  have  done  this  ? 
Perhaps  it  is  one  of  his  old  scarfs — if  so,  it  is  an  old  new 
one,  for  I  do  not  think  it  has  ever  been  worn.  I  must  in 
quire  into  this,  in  the  morning — 1  wonder  there  is  nothing 
of  Maud's!" 

As  the  major  laid  aside  his  presents,  he  kissed  the  scarf, 
and  then — I  regret  to  say  without  saying  his  prayers — the 
young  man  went  to  bed. 

The  scene  must  now  be  transferred  to  the  room  where 
the  sisters — in  affection,  if  not  in  blood — were  about  to  seek 
their  pillows  also.  Maud,  ever  the  quickest  and  most  prompt 
in  her  movements,  was  already  in  her  night-clothes ;  and, 
wrapping  a  shawl  about  herself,  was  seated  waiting  for 
Beulah  to  finish  her  nightly  orisons.  It  was  not  long  before 
the  latter  rose  from  her  knees,  and  then  our  heroine  spoke. 

"  The  major*nust  have  examined  the  basket  by  this  time," 
she  cried,  her  cheek  rivalling  the  tint  of  a  riband  it  leaned 
against,  on  the  back  of  the  chair.  "  I  heard  his  heavy 
tramp — tramp- — tramp^-as  he  went  to  his  room — how  dif 
ferently  these  men  walk  from  us  girls,  Beulah !" 

"  They  do,  indeed  ;  and  Bob  has  got  to  be  so  large  and 
heavy,  now,  that  he  quite  frightens  me,  sometimes.  Do  you 
not  think  he  grows  wonderfully  like  papa?" 

"  I  do  not  see  it.  He  wears  his  own  hair,  and  it's  a  pity 
he  should  ever  cut  it  off,  it's  so  handsome  and  curling.  Then 
he  is  taller,  but  lighter — has  more  colour — is  so  much 
younger — and  everyway  so  different,  I  wonder  you  think 
so.  I  do  not  think  him  in  the  least  like  father." 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  85 

"  Well,  that  is  odd,  Maud.  Both  mother  and  myself  wero 

struck  with  the  resemblance,  this  evening,  and  \vc  were  both 

delighted  to  sec  it.     Papa  is  quite  handsome,  and  so  I  think 

is  Bob.     Mother  says  he  is  not  quite  as  handsome  as  father 

it  his  age,  but  so  like  him,  it  is  surprising  !" 

"  Men  may  be  handsome  and  not  alike.  Father  is  cer 
tainly  one  of  the  handsomest  elderly  men  of  my  acquaint 
ance — and  the  major  is  so-so-ish — but,  I  wonder  you  can 
think  a  man  of  scven-and-twenty  so  very  like  one  of  sixty 
odd.  Bob  tells  me  he  can  play  the  flute  quite  readily  now, 
Beutah." 

"  I  dare  say ;  he  does  everything  he  undertakes  uncom 
monly  well.  Mr.  Woods  said,  a  few  days  since,  he  had 
never  met  with  a  boy  who  was  quicker  at  his  mathe 
matics." 

"  Oh  !  All  Mr.  Wood's  geese  are  swans.  I  dare  say  there 
have  been  other  boys  who  were  quite  as  clever.  I  do  not 
believe  in  non-pareils,  Beulah." 

"  You  surprise  me,  Maud — you,  whom  I  always  supposed 
such  a  friend  of  Bob's !  He  thinks  everything  you  do,  too, 
so  perfect !  Now,  this  very  evening,  he  was  looking  at  the 
sketch  you  have  made  of  the  Knoll,  and  he  protested  he  did 
not  know  a  regular  artist  in  England,  even,  that  would  have 
done  it  better." 

Maud  stole  a  glance  at  her  sister,  while  the  latter  was 
speaking,  from  under  her  cap,  and  her  cheeks  now  fairly 
put  the  riband  to  shame ;  but  her  smile  was  still  saucy  and 
wilful. 

"  Oh  !  nonsense,"  she  said — "  Bob 's  no  judge  of  draw 
ings — He  scarce  knows  a  tree  from  a  horse !" 

"I'm  surprised  to  hear  you  say  so,  Maud,"  said  the 
generous-minded  and  affectionate  Beulah,  who  could  see  no 
imperfection  in  Bob;  "and  that  of  your  brother.  Wli»-n 
he  taught  you  to  draw,  you  thought  him  well  skilled  as  an 
artist." 

"Did  I?  —  I  dare  say  I'm  a  capricious  creature  —  but, 
somehow,  I  don't  regard  Bob,  just  as  I  used  to.  He  has 
been  away  from  us  so  much,  of  late,  you  know — and  the 
army  makes  men  so  formidable — and,  they  are  not  like  us, 
you  know  —  and,  altogether,  I  think  Bob  excessively 
changed." 

VOL.  I.  — 8 


86  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  mamma  don't  hear  this,  Maud.  She 
looks  upon  her  son,  now  he  is  a  major,  and  twenty-seven, 
just  as  she  used  to  look  upon  him,  when  he  was  in  petti- 
coats — nay,  I  think  she  considers  us  all  exactly  as  so  many 
little  children." 

"  She  is  a  dear,  good  mother,  I  know,"  said  Maud,  with 
emphasis,  tears  starting  to  her  eyes,  involuntarily,  almost 
impetuously — "  whatever  she  says,  does,  wishes,  hopes,  or 
thinks,  is  right." 

"  Oh  !  T  knew  you  would  come  to,  as  soon  as  there  was  a 
question  about  mother !  Well,  for  my  part,  I  have  no  such 
horror  of  men,  as  not  to  feel  just  as  much  tenderness  for 
father  or  brother,  as  I  feel  for  mamma,  herself." 

"  Not  for  Bob,  Beulah.  Tenderness  for  Bob  !  Why,  my 
dear  sister,  that  is  feeling  tenderness  for  a  Major  of  Foot, 
a  very  different  thing  from  feeling  it  for  one's  mother.  As 
for  papa — dear  me,  he  is  glorious,  and  I  do  so  love  him !" 

"  You  ought  to,  Maud  ;  for  you  were,  and  I  am  not  cer 
tain  that  you  are  not,  at  this  moment,  his  darling." 

It  was  odd  that  this  was  said  without  the  least  thought, 
on  the  part  of  the  speaker,  that  Maud  was  not  her  natural 
sister — that,  in  fact,  she  was  not  in  the  least  degree  related 
to  her  by  blood.  But  so  closely  and  judiciously  had  captain 
and  Mrs.  Willoughby  managed  the  affair  of  their  adopted 
child,  that  neither  they  themselves,  Beulah,  nor  the  inmates 
of  the  family  or  household,  ever  thought  of  her,  but  as  of  a 
real  daughter  of  her  nominal  parents.  As  for  Beulah,  her 
feelings  were  so  simple  and  sincere,  that  they  were  even 
beyond  the  ordinary  considerations  of  delicacy,  and  she  took 
precisely  the  same  liberties  with  her  titular,  as  she  would 
have  done  with  a  natural  sister.  Maud  alone,  of  all  in  the 
Hut,  remembered  her  birth,  and  submitted  to  some  of  its 
most  obvious  consequences.  As  respects  the  captain,  the 
idea  never  crossed  her  mind,  that  she  was  adopted  by  him; 
as  respects  her  mother,  she  filled  to  her,  in  every  sense,  that 
sacred  character ;  Beulah,  too,  was  a  sister,  in  thought  and 
deed;  but,  Bob,  he  had  so  changed,  had  been  so  many  years 
separated  from  her ;  had  once  actually  called  her  Miss 
Meredith  —  somehow,  she  knew  not  how  herself — it  was 
fully  six  years  since  she  had  begun  to  remember  that  he 
was  not  her  brother. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  87 

•»As  for  my  father,"  said  Maud,  rising  with  emotion,  and 
•peaking  with  startling  emphasis — "  1  will  not  say  I  love 
him — 1  irorship  him  !" 

"All!  I  know  that  well  enough,  Maud;  and  to  say  the 
truth,  you  are  a  couple  of  idolators,  between  you.  Mamma 
says  this,  sometimes;  though  she  owns  she  is  not  jealous. 
But  it  would  pain  her  excessively  to  hear  that  you  do  not 
feel  towards  Boh,  just  as  we  all  feel." 

"But,  ought  H— Beulah,  I  cannot!" 

"  Ought  you  ! — Why  not,  Maud?  Are  you  in  your  senses, 
child?" 

"But  —  you  know  —  I'm  sure  —  you  ought  to  remem 
ber-" 

"  What?'1  demanded  Beulah,  really  frightened  at  the 
other's  excessive  agitation. 

"  That  I  am  not  his  real — true — born  sister  !" 

This  was  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  either  had  ever 
alluded  to  the  fact,  in  the  other's  presence.  Beulah  turned 
pale ;  she  trembled  all  over,  as  if  in  an  asue ;  then  she 
luckily  burst  into  tears,  else  she  might  have  fainted. 

"Beulah  —  my  sister  —  my  oirn  sister!"  cried  Maud, 
throwing  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  distressed  girl. 

"  Ah  !  Maud,  you  are,  you  shall  for  ever  be,  my  only, 
only  sister." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

O!  It  is  great  for  our  country  to  die,  where  ranks  are  contending; 

Bright  is  the  wreath  of  our  fame;  Glory  awaits  us  for  aye — 
Glory,  that  never  is  dim,  shining  on  with  lijjht  never  ending — 

Glory,  that  never  shall  fade,  never,  O  !  never  away. 

PER  civ  A  L. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  startling  intelligence  that  had  so 
unexpectedly  reached  it,  and  the  warm  polemical  conflict 
that  had  been  carried  on  within  its  walls,  the  night  passed 
fully  over  the  roof  of  the  Hutted  Knoll.  At  the  return 
of  dawn,  the  two  Plinys,  both  the  Smashes,  and  all  the 
menials  were  again  afoot ;  and,  ere  long,  Mike,  Saucy  Nick, 


88  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Joel,  and  the  rest  were  seen  astir,  in  the  open  fields,  or  in 
the  margin  of  the  woods.  Cattle  were  fed,  cows  milked, 
fires  lighted,  and  everything  pursued  its  course,  in  the  order 
of  May.  The  three  wenches,  as  female  negroes  were  then 
termed,  ex  officio,  in  America,  opened  their  throats,  as  was 
usual  at  that  hour,  and  were  heard  singing  at  their  labours, 
in  a  way  nearly  to  deaden  the  morning  carols  of  the  tenants 
of  the  forest.  Mart',  in  particular,  would  have  drowned  the 
roar  of  Niagara.  The  captain  used  to  call  her  his  clarion. 

In  due  time,  the  superiors  of  the  household  made  their 
appearance.  Mrs.  Willoughby  was  the  first  out  of  her  room, 
as  was  ever  the  case  when  there  was  anything  to  be  done. 
On  the  present  occasion,  the  "  fatted  calf"  was  to  be  killed, 
not  in  honour  of  the  return  of  a  prodigal  son,  however,  but 
in  behalf  of  one  who  was  the  pride  of  her  eyes,  and  the  joy 
of  her  heart.  The  breakfast  that  she  ordered  was  just  the 
sort  of  breakfast,  that  one  must  visit  America  to  witness. 
France  can  set  forth  a  very  scientific  dejeuner  d  la  four- 
cliette,  and  England  has  laboured  and  ponderous  imitations  ; 
but,  for  the  spontaneous,  superabundant,  unsophisticated, 
natural,  all-sufficing  and  all-subduing  morning's  meal,  take 
America,  in  a  better-class  house,  in  the  country,  and  you 
reach  the  ne  plus  ultra,  in  that  sort  of  thing.  Tea,  coffee, 
and  chocolate,  of  which  the  first  and  last  were  excellent, 
and  the  second  respectable ;  ham,  fish,  eggs,  toast,  cakes, 
rolls,  marmalades,  &c.  &c.  &c.,  were  thrown  together  in 
noble  confusion ;  frequently  occasioning  the  guest,  as  Mr. 
Woods  naively  confessed,  an  utter  confusion  of  mind,  as 
to  which  he  was  to  attack,  when  all  were  inviting  and 
each  would  be  welcome. 

Leaving  Mrs.  Willoughby  in  deep  consultation  with  Mari', 
on  the  subject  of  this  feast,  we  will  next  look  after  the  two 
sweet  girls  whom  we  so  abruptly  deserted  in  the  last  chap 
ter.  When  Maud's  glowing  cheeks  were  first  visible  that 
morning,  signs  of  tears  mii^ht  have  been  discovered  on  them, 
as  the  traces  of  the  dew  are  found  on  the  leaf  of  the  rose ; 
but  they  completely  vanished  under  the  duties  of  the  toilet, 
and  she  came  forth  from  her  chamber,  bright  and  cloudless 
as  the  glorious  May-morning,  which  had  returned  to  cheer 
the  solitude  of  the  manor.  Beulah  followed,  tranquil,  bland, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  89 

and  mild  as  the  day  itself,  the  living  image  of  the  purity  of 
soul,  and  dorp  alliviions,  of  her  h<>nrst  nature. 

The  sisters  \vrnt  into  the  breakfast-room,  where  they  ha-J 
little  lady-like  otliees  of  thrir  own  to  discharge,  too,  in  ho 
nour  of  tin-  i^ucst ;  each  employing  herself  in  decorating  the 
tahle,  and  in  string  that  it  wanted  nothing  in  the  proprie 
ties.  As  thrir  pleasing  tasks  were  fulfilled,  the  discourse 
did  not  flag  between  them.  Nothing,  however,  had  been 
said,  that  made  the  smallest  allusion  to  the  conversation  of 
the  past  night.  Neither  felt  any  wish  to  revive  that  subject; 
and,  as  for  Maud,  bitterly  did  she  regret  ever  having  broach 
ed  it.  At  times,  her  cheeks  burned  with  blushes,  as  she 
recalled  her  words ;  and  yet  she  scarce  knew  the  reason 
why.  The  feeling  of  Beulah  was  ditlerent.  ISho  wondered 
-tcr  could  ever  think  she  was  a  Meredith,  and  not  a 
Willoughby,  At  times  she  ll-aivd  some  unfortunate  over 
sight  of  her  own,  some  careless  allusion,  or  indiscreet  act, 
might  have  served  to  remind  Maud  of  the  circumstances  of 
her  real  birth.  Yet  there  was  nothing  in  the  last  likely  to 
awaken  unpleasant  reflections,  apart  from  the  circumstance 
that  she  was  not  truly  a  child  of  the  family  into  which  she 
had  been  transplanted.  The  Merediths  were,  at  least,  as 
honourable  a  family  as  the  Willoughbys,  in  the  ordinary 
worldly  view  of  the  matter;  nor  was  Maud,  by  any  means, 
a  dependant,  in  the  way  of  money.  Five  thousand  pounds, 
in  the  English  funds,  had  been  settled  on  her,  by  the  mar 
riage  articles  of  her  parents ;  and  twenty  years  of  careful 
husbandry,  during  which  every  shilling  had  been  scrupu 
lously  devoted  to  accumulation,  had  quite  doubled  the  origi 
nal  amount.  So  far  from  being  penniless,  therefore,  Maud's 
fortune  was  often  alluded  to  by  the  captain,  in  a  jocular 
way,  as  if  purposely  to  remind  her  that  she  had  the  means 
of  independence,  and  duties  connected  with  it.  It  is  truo, 
Maud,  herself,  had  no  suspicion  that  she  had  been  educated 
altogether  by  her  "father,"  and  that  her  own  money  had 
not  been  u<"d  for  this  purpose.  To  own  the  truth,  she 
thought  little  about  it ;  knew  little  about  it,  beyond  the  fact, 
that  she  had  a  fortune  of  her  own,  into  the  possession  of 
which  she  must  step,  when  she  attained  her  majority.  How 
she  came  by  it,  even,  was  a  question  she  never  asked ; 
though  there  were  moments  when  tender  regrets  and  atfec- 
8* 


90  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

tionate  melancholy  would  come  over  her  heart,  as  she 
thought  of  her  natural  parents,  and  of  their  early  deaths. 
Still,  Maud  implicitly  reposed  on  the  captain  and  Mrs. 
Willoughby,  as  on  a  father  and  mother ;  and  it  was  not 
owing  to  them,  or  anything  connected  with  their  love,  treat 
ment,  words,  or  thoughts,  that  she  was  reminded  that  they 
were  not  so  in  very  fact,  as  well  as  in  tenderness. 

"  Bob  will  think  you  made  these  plum  sweetmeats,  Beu. 
lah,"  said  Maud,  with  a  saucy  smile,  as  she  placed  a  glass 
plate  on  the  table — "  He  never  thinks  I  can  make  anything 
of  this  sort ;  and,  as  he  is  so  fond  of  plums,  he  will  be  cer 
tain  to  taste  them  ;  then  you  will  come  in  for  the  praise  !" 

"  You  appear  to  think,  that  praise  he  must.  Perhaps  he 
may  not  fancy  them  good." 

"  If  I  thought  so,  I  would  take  them  away  this  instant," 
cried  Maud,  standing  in  the  attitude  of  one  in  doubt.  "  Bob 
does  not  think  much  of  such  things  in  girls,  for  he  says 
ladies  need  not  be  cooks ;  and  yet  when  one  does  make  a 
thing  of  this  sort,  one  would  certainly  like  to  have  it  well 
made." 

"  Set  your  heart  at  ease,  Maud  ;  the  plums  are  delicious 
— much  the  best  we  ever  had,  and  we  are  rather  famous  for 
them,  you  know.  I  '11  answer  for  it,  Bob  will  pronounce 
them  the  best  he  has  ever  tasted." 

"  And  if  he  shouldn't,  why  should  I  care — that  is,  not 
very  much — about  it.  You  know  they  are  the  first  1  ever 
made,  and  one  may  be  permitted  to  fail  on  a  first  effort. 
Besides,  a  man  may  go  to  England,  and  see  fine  sights,  and 
live  in  great  houses,  and  all  that,  and  not  understand  when 
he  has  good  plum  sweetmeats  before  him,  and  when  bad.  I 
dare  say  there  are  many  colonels  in  the  army,  who  are 
ignorant  on  this  point." 

Beulah  laughed,  and  admitted  the  truth  of  the  remark  ; 
though,  in  her  secret  mind,  she  had  almost  persuaded  her 
self  that  Bob  knew  everything. 

"  Do  you  not  think  our  brother  improved  in  appearance, 
Maud,"  she  asked,  after  a  short  pause.  "  The  visit  to  Eng 
land  has  done  him  that  service,  at  least." 

"  I  don't  see  it,  Beulah — I  see  no  change.  To  me,  Bob 
is  just  the  same  to-day,  that  he  has  ever  been ;  that  is,  ever 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  91 

since  ho  nivw  to  bo  a  man — with  boys,  of  courso,  it  is  dif 
ferent.  KMT  sinre  lie  \v;is  made  a  cap!ain,  I  moan." 

As  major  Willoughby-  had  readied  that  rank  tho  day  ho 
ue-and-tuenty,  the  roadcr  can  understand  the  pnviso 
dale  uhen  .Maud  b^gan  to  lake  her  present  views  of  his  ap- 
[•<  aranee-  and  character. 

"I  am  surprised  to  hear  you  say  so,  Maud  !  Papa  says 
he  is  better  *  set  up,'  as  he  calls  it,  by  his  English  drill,  and 
that  he  looks  altogether  more  like  a  soldier  than  he  did." 

"  Bob  has  always  had  a  martial  look !"  cried  Maud, 
quickly — "  lie  got  that  in  garrison,  when  a  boy." 

"  If  so,  I  hope  he  may  never  lose  it !"  said  the  subject  of 
the  remark,  himself,  who  had  entered  the  room  unperceivcd, 
and  overheard  this  speech.  "  B»'ing  a  soldier,  one  would 
wish  to  look  like  what  he  is,  my  little  critic." 

The  kiss  that  followed,  and  that  given  to  Beulah,  were 
no  more  than  the  usual  morning  salutations  of  a  brother  to 
his  sisters,  slight  touches  of  rosy  checks;  and  yet  Maud 
blushed ;  for,  as  she  said  to  herself,  she  had  been  taken  by 
surprise. 

"  They  say  listeners  never  hear  good  of  themselves,"  an 
swered  Maud,  with  a  vivacity  that  betokened  confusion. 
'•  I  lad  you  come  a  minute  sooner,  master  Bob,  it  might  have 
been  an  advantage." 

"  Oh !  Beulah's  remarks  I  do  not  fear ;  so  long  as  I  get 
off  unscathed  from  yours,  Miss  Maud,  I  shall  think  myself 
a  lucky  fellow.  But  what  has  brought  me  and  my  training 
into  discussion,  this  morning?" 

"  It  is  natural  for  sisters  to  speak  about  their  brother  after 
so  long " 

"  Tell  him  nothing  about  it,  Beulah,"  interrupted  Maud. 
"Let  him  listen,  and  eaves-drop,  and  find  out  as  lie  may, 
if  he  would  learn  our  secrets.  There,  major  WiHoughby,  I 
hope  that  is  a  promise  of  a  breakfast,  which  will  satisfy  even 
your  military  appetite !" 

"It  looks  well,  indeed,  Maud — and  there,  I  perceive,  aro 
some  of  Beulah's  excellent  plums,  of  which  I  am  so  fond — 
I  know  they  were  made  especially  for  me,  and  I  must  kiss 
you,  sister,  for  this  proof  of  remembrance." 

Beulah,  to  whose  simple  mind  it  seemed  injustice  to  ap 
propriate  credit  that  belonged  to  another,  was  about  to  tell 


92  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

the  truth ;  but  an  imploring  gesture  from  her  sister  induced 
her  to  smile,  and  receive  the  salute  in  silence. 

"  Has  any  one  seen  captain  Willoughby  and  parson 
Woods  this  morning'?"  inquired  the  major.  "I  left  them 
desperately  engaged  in  discussion,  and  I  really  feel  some 
apprehension  as  to  the  remains  left  on  the  field  of  battle." 

"  Here  they  both  come,"  cried  Maud,  glad  to  find  the  dis 
course  taking  so  complete  a  change  ;  "  and  there  is  mamma, 
followed  by  Pliny,  to  tell  Beulah  to  take  her  station  at  the 
coffee,  while  I  go  to  the  chocolate,  leaving  the  tea  to  the 
only  hand  that  can  make  it  so  that  my  father  will  drink  it." 

The  parties  mentioned  entered  the  room,  in  the  order 
named ;  the  usual  salutations  followed,  and  all  took  their 
seats  at  table.  Captain  Willoughby  was  silent  and  thought 
ful  at  first,  leaving  his  son  to  rattle  on,  in  a  way  that  beto 
kened  care,  in  his  view  of  the  matter,  quite  as  much  as  it 
betokened  light-heartedness  in  those  of  his  mother  and  sis 
ters.  The  chaplain  was  rather  more  communicative  than 
his  friend ;  but  he,  too,  seemed  restless,  and  desirous  of 
arriving  at  some  point  that  was  not  likely  to  come  upper 
most,  in  such  a  family  party.  At  length,  the  impulses  of 
Mr.  Woods  got  the  better  of  his  discretion,  even,  and  he 
could  conceal  his  thoughts  no  longer. 

"  Captain  Willoughby,"  he  said,  in  a  sort  of  apologetic, 
and  yet  simple  and  natural  manner,  "  I  have  done  little 
since  we  parted,  seven  hours  since,  but  think  of  the  matter 
under  discussion." 

"  If  you  have,  my  dear  Woods,  there  has  been  a  strong 
sympathy  between  us ;  I  have  scarcely  slept.  I  may  say  I 
have  thought  of  nothing  else,  myself,  and  am  glad  you  have 
broached  the  subject,  again." 

"  I  was  about  to  say,  my  worthy  sir,  that  reflection,  and 
rny  pillow,  arid  your  sound  and  admirable  arguments,  have 
produced  an  entire  change  in  my  sentiments.  I  think,  now, 
altogether  with  you." 

"  The  devil  you  do,  Woods !"  cried  the  captain,  looking 
up  from  his  bit  of  dry  toast,  in  astonishment.  "  Why,  my 
dear  fellow — this  is  odd — excessively  odd,  if  the  truth  must 
be  said. — To  own  the  real  state  of  the  case,  chaplain,  you 
have  won  me  over,  and  I  was  just  about  to  make  proper 
acknowledgments  of  your  victory  !" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  93 

It  nerd  scarcely  !><>  milled  that  the  rest  of  the  company 
not  a  little  amu/.ed  at  these  cross-concessions,  while 
Maud  was  exceeding  v  amused.  As  for  Mrs.  \\  illoughby, 
nothing  laughahle  ever  occurred  in  connection  with  ln-r 
husband  ;  ami  then  she  would  as  soon  think  of  assailing  the 
chuivh  itself,  a.s  to  ridicule  one  of  its  ministers.  Beulah 
could  see  nothing  but  what  was  right  in  her  father,  at  least  ; 
and,  a.s  for  the  major,  he  felt  too  much  concerned  at  this 
u  n<  .\pectcd  admission  of  his  father's,  to  perceive  anything 
but  the  error. 

'•Have  you  not  overlooked  the  injunction  of  scripture, 
my  excellent  friend?"  rejoined  the  chaplain.  "  Have  you 
•  the  rights  of  Caosar,  all  their  weight  and  authority? 
'  The  king's  name  is  a  tower  of  strength.' " 

"  Have  not  you,  Woods,  forgotten  the  superior  claims  of 
reason  and  right,  over  those  of  accident  and  birth — that 
man  is  to  be  considered  as  a  reasoning  being,  to  be  go- 
verned  by  principles  and  ever-varying  facts,  and  not  a 
mere  animal  left  to  the  control  of  an  instinct  that  perishes 
with  its  usefulness  ?" 

"  What  can  they  mean,  mother?"  whispered  Maud,  scarce 
able  to  repress  the  laughter  that  came  so  easily  to  one  with 
a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous. 

"  They  have  been  arguing  about  the  right  of  parliament 
to  tax  the  colonies,  I  believe,  my  dear,  and  over-persuaded 
each  other,  that's  all.  It  is  odd,  Robert,  that  Mr.  Woods 
should  convert  your  father." 

"  No,  my  dearest  mother,  it  is  something  even  more  se 
rious  than  that."  By  this  time,  the  disputants,  who  sat 
opposite  each  other,  were  fairly  launched  into  the  discus 
sion,  again,  and  heeded  nothing  that  passed — "  No,  dearest 
mother,  it  is  far  worse  than  even  that.  Pliny,  tell  my  man 
to  brush  the  hunting-jacket — and,  s«-e  he  Ins  his  breakfast, 
in  good  style — he  is  a  grumbling  rascal,  and  will  give  the 
house  a  bad  character,  else — you  need  not  come  back,  until 
we  ring  for  you — yes,  mother,  yes  dearest  girls,  this  is  a 
far  more  serious  matter  than  you  suppose,  though  it  ought 
not  to  be  mentioned  idly,  among  the  people.  God  knows 
how  they  may  take  it — and  bad  news  flics  swift  enough,  of 
itself." 

"Merciful  Providence!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Willoughby — 
"  What  can  you  mean,  my  son  ?" 


94  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  I  mean,  mother,  that  civil  war  has  actually  commenced 
in  the  colonies,  and  that  the  people  of  your  blood  and  race 
are,  in  open  arms,  against  the  people  of  my  father's  native 
country — in  a  word,  against  me." 

"  How  can  that  be,  Robert  1  Who  would  dare  to  strike  a 
blow  against  the  king?" 

"  When  men  get  excited,  and  their  passions  are  once  in 
flamed,  they  will  do  much,  my  mother,  that  they  might  not 
dream  of,  else." 

"  This  must  be  a  mistake !  Some  evil-disposed  person 
has  told  you  this,  Robert,  knowing  your  attachment  to  the 
crown." 

"  I  wish  it  were  so,  dear  madam ;  but  my  own  eyes  have 
seen — I  may  say  my  own  flesh  has  felt,  the  contrary." 

The  major  then  related  what  had  happened,  letting  his 
auditors  into  the  secret  of  the  true  state  of  the  country.  It 
is  scarcely  necessary  to  allude  to  the  degree  of  consternation 
and  pain,  with  which  he  was  heard,  or  to  the  grief  which 
succeeded. 

"  You  spoke  of  yourself,  dear  Bob,"  said  Maud,  naturally, 
and  with  strong  feeling — "  You  were  not  hurt,  in  this  cruel, 
cruel  battle." 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it,  although  I  did  cer 
tainly  receive  a  smart  contusion — nothing  more,  I  assure 
you — here  in  the  shoulder,  and  it  now  scarcely  inconve 
niences  me." 

By  this  time  all  were  listening,  curiosity  and  interest 
having  silenced  even  the  disputants,  especially  as  this  was 
the  first  they  had  heard  of  the  major's  casualty.  Then 
neither  felt  the  zeal  which  had  warmed  him  in  the  previous 
contest,  but  was  better  disposed  to  turn  aside  from  its  pur 
suit. 

"  I  hope  it  did  not  send  you  to  the  rear,  Bab?"  anxiously 
inquired  the  father. 

'•  I  was  in  the  rear,  sir,  when  I  got  the  hurt,"  answered 
the  major,  laughing.  "  The  rear  is  the  post  of  honour,  on  a 
retreat,  you  know,  my  dear  father  ;  and  I  believe  our  march 
scarce  deserves  another  name." 

"  That  is  hard,  too,  on  king's  troops !  What  sort  of 
fellows  had  you  to  oppose,  my  son  ?" 

"  A  rather  intrusive  set,  sir.  Their  object  was  to  persuade 


THE     HOTTED     KNOLL.  95 

us  lo  go  into  Boston,  as  last  as  possible;  and,  it  was  a  little 
difficult,  at  times,  not  tu  listen  to  their  arguments.  If  my 
Lord  Percy  had  not  come  out,  with  a  strong  party,  and  two 
pieces  of  artillery,  we  might  not  have  stood  it  much  longer  ! 
Our  mm  were  lagged  like  hunted  deer,  and  the  day  proved 
oppressively  hot." 

"Artillery,  too!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  his  military 
pride  reviving  a  little,  to  unsettle  his  last  convictions  of 
duty.  "  Did  you  open  your  columns,  and  charge  your 
enemies,  in  line?" 

"  It  would  have  been  charging  air.  No  sooner  did  we 
halt,  than  our  foes  dispersed;  or,  no  sooner  did  we  renew 
the  march,  than  every  line  of  wall,  along  our  route,  became 
a  line  of  hostile  muskets.  I  trust  you  will  do  us  justice, 
sir — you  know  the  regiments,  and  can  scarce  think  they 
misbehaved." 

"  British  troops  seldom  do  that ;  although  I  have  known  it 
happen.  No  men,  however,  are  usually  more  steady,  and 
then  these  provincials  are  formidable  as  skirmishers.  In 
that  character,  I  know  them,  too.  What  has  been  the  effect 
of  all  this  on  the  country,  Bob? — You  told  us  something  of 
it  last  night ;  complete  the  history." 

"  The  provinces  are  in  a  tumult.  As  for  New  England, 
a  flame  of  fire  could  scarce  be  more  devastating ;  though  I 
think  this  colony  is  less  excited.  Still,  here,  men  are  arm 
ing  in  thousands." 

"  Dear  me — dear  me" — ejaculated  the  peacefully-inclined 
chaplain — "  that  human  beings  can  thus  be  inclined  to  self- 
destruction !" 

"  Is  Tryon  active  ? — What  do  the  royal  authorities,  all 
this  time?" 

"  Of  course  they  neglect  nothing  feasible ;  but,  they  must 
principally  rely  on  the  loyalty  and  influence  of  the  gentry, 
until  succour  can  arrive  from  Europe.  If  that  fail  thorn, 
their  difficulties  will  be  much  increased." 

Captain  Willoughby  understood  his  son  j  he  glanced  to- 
wirds  his  unconscious  wife,  as  if  to  see  how  far  she  felt 
w'th  him. 

*'  Our  own  families  are  divided,  of  course,  much  as  they 
have  been  in  the  previous  discussions,"  he  added.  "  The 
De  Lanceys,  Van  Cortlandts,  Philipses,  Bayards,  and  most 


96  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

of  that  town  connection,  with  a  large  portion  of  the  Long 
Island  families,  I  should  think,  are  with  the  crown ;  while 
the  Livingstons,  Morrises,  Schuylers,  Rensselaers,  and  their 
friends,  go  with  the  colony.  Is  not  this  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  divided  ?" 

"  With  some  limitations,  sir.  All  the  De  Lanceys,  with 
most  of  their  strong  connections  and  influence,  are  with  us — 
with  the  king,  I  mean — while  all  the  Livingstons  and  Mor 
rises  are  against  us.  The  other  families  are  divided — as 
with  the  Cortlandts,  Schuylers,  and  Rensselaers.  It  is  for 
tunate  for  the  Patroon,  that  he  is  a  boy," 

"Why  so,  Bob?"  asked  the  captain,  looking  inquiringly 
up,  at  his  son. 

"  Simply,  sir,  that  his  great  estate  may  not  be  confiscated. 
So  many  of  his  near  connections  are  against  us,  that  he 
could  hardly  escape  the  contamination ;  and  the  conse 
quences  would  be  inevitable." 

"  Do  you  consider  that  so  certain,  sir?  As  there  are  two 
sides  to  the  question,  may  there  not  be  two  results  to  the 
war?" 

"  I  think  not,  sir.  England  is  no  power  to  be  defied  by 
colonies  insignificant  as  these." 

"  This  is  well  enough  for  a  king's  officer,  major  Wil- 
loughby ;  but  all  large  bodies  of  men  are  formidable  when 
they  are  right,  and  nations — these  colonies  are  a  nation,  in 
extent  and  number — are  not  so  easily  put  down,  when  the 
spirit  of  liberty  is  up  and  doing  among  them." 

The  major  listened  to  his  father  with  pain  and  wonder. 
The  captain  spoke  earnestly,  and  there  was  a  flush  about 
his  fine  countenance,  that  gave  it  sternness  and  authority. 
Unused  to  debate  with  his  father,  especially  when  the  latter 
was  in  such  a  mood,  the  son  remained  silent,  though  his 
mother,  who  was  thoroughly  loyal  in  her  heart — meaning 
loyal  as  applied  to  a  sovereign — and  who  had  the  utmost 
confidence  in  her  husband's  tenderness  and  consideration 
for  herself,  was  not  so  scrupulous. 

"  Why,  Willoughby,"  she  cried,  "  you  really  incline  to 
rebellion  !  I,  even  I,  who  was  born  in  the  colonies,  think 
them  very  wrong  to  resist  their  anointed  king,  and  sove 
reign  prince." 

"  Ah,  Wilhelmina,"  answered  the  captain,  more  mildly, 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  07 

"  you  have  a  true  colonist's  admiration  of  home.  But  I  \VILS 
old  enough,  when  1  left  England,  to  appreciate  what  I  saw 
and  knew,  and  cannot  Ibel  all  this  provincial  admiration." 

"  Iitit  surely,  my  dear  captain,  England  is  a  very  great 
country,"  interrupted  the  chaplain — "  a  prodigious  country  ; 
one  that  can  claim  all  our  respect  and  love.  Look  at  the 
church,  now,  the  purified  continuation  of  the  ancient  visible 
authority  of  Christ  on  earth  !  It  is  the  consideration  of  this 
church  that  has  subdued  my  natural  love  of  birth-place,  and 
altered  my  sentiments." 

"  All  very  true,  and  all  very  well,  in  your  mouth,  chap 
lain  ;  yet  even  the  visible  church  may  err.  This  doctrine 
of  divine  right  would  have  kept  the  Stuarts  on  the  throne, 
and  it  is  not  even  English  doctrine ;  much  less,  then,  need 
it  be  American.  I  am  no  Cromwellian,  no  republican,  that 
wishes  to  oppose  the  throne,  in  order  to  destroy  it.  A  good 
king  is  a  good  thing,  and  a  prodigious  blessing  to  a  country  ; 
still,  a  people  needs  look  to  its  political  privileges  if  it  wish 
to  preserve  them.  You  and  I  will  discuss  this  matter  ano 
ther  time,  parson.  There  will  be  plenty  of  opportunities," 
he  added,  rising,  and  smiling  good-humourcdly ;  "  I  must, 
now,  call  my  people  together,  and  let  them  know  this  news. 
It  is  not  fair  to  conceal  a  civil  war." 

"  My  dear  sir!"  exclaimed  the  major,  in  concern — "are 
you  not  wrong? — precipitate,  I  mean — Is  it  not  better  to 
preserve  the  secret,  to  give  yourself  time  for  reflection — to 
await  events? — I  can  discover  no  necessity  for  this  haste. 
Should  you  see  things  ditferently,  hereafter,  an  incautious 
word  uttered  at  this  moment  might  bring  much  motive  for 
regret." 

"  I  have  thought  of  all  this,  Bob,  during  the  night — for 
hardly  did  I  close  my  eyes — and  you  cannot  change  my 
purpose.  It  is  honest  to  let  my  people  know  how  matters 
stand ;  and,  so  far  from  being  hazardous,  as  you  seem  to 
think,  I  consider  it  wise.  God  knows  what  time  will  bring 
forth  ;  but,  in  every,  or  any  event,  fair-dealing  can  scarcely 
injure  him  who  practises  it.  I  have  already  sent  directions 
to  have  the  whole  settlement  collected  on  the  lawn,  at  the 
ringing  of  the  bell,  and  I  expect  every  moment  we  shall 
hear  the  summons." 

VOL.  I.  — 9 


88  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Against  this  decision  there  was  no  appeal.  Mild  and  in 
dulgent  as  the  captain  habitually  was,  his  authority  was  not 
to  be  disputed,  when  he  chose  to  exercise  it.  Some  doubtg 
arose,  and  the  father  participated  in  them,  for  a  moment*,  as 
to  what  might  be  the  effect  on  the  major's  fortunes ;  for, 
should  a  very  patriotic  spirit  arise  among  the  men,  two- 
thirds  of  whom  were  native  Americans,  and  what  was  more, 
from  the  eastern  colonies,  he  might  be  detained  ;  or,  at  least, 
betrayed  on  his  return,  and  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the 
revolted  authorities.  This  was  a  very  serious  consideration, 
and  it  detained  the  captain  in  the  house,  some  time  after  the 
people  were  assembled,  debating  the  chances,  in  the  bosom 
of  his  own  family. 

"  We  exaggerate  the  danger,"  the  captain,  at  length,  ex 
claimed.  "  Most  of  these  men  have  been  with  me  for  years, 
and  I  know  not  one  among  them  who  I  think  would  wish  to 
injure  me,  or  even  you,  my  son,  in  this  way.  There  is  far 
more  danger  in  attempting  to  deceive  them,  than  in  making 
them  confidants.  I  will  go  out  and  tell  the  truth ;  then  we 
shall,  at  least,  have  the  security  of  self-approbation.  If 
you  escape  the  danger  of  being  sold  by  Nick,  my  son,  I 
think  you  have  little  to  fear  from  any  other." 

"  By  Nick  1"  repeated  half-a-dozen  voices,  in  surprise — 
"  Surely,  father — surely,  Willoughby — surely,  my  dear  cap 
tain,  you  cannot  suspect  as  old  and  tried  a  follower,  as  the 
Tuscarora !" 

"  Ay,  he  is  an  old  follower,  certainly,  and  he  has  been 
punished  often  enough,  if  he  has  not  been  tried.  I  have 
never  suffered  my  distrust  of  that  fellow  to  go  to  sleep — it  13 
unsafe,  with  an  Indian,  unless  you  have  a  strong  hold  on 
his  gratitude." 

"  But,  Willoughby,  he  it  was  who  found  this  manor  for 
us,"  rejoined  the  wife.  "Without  him,  we  should  never 
have  been  the  owners  of  this  lovely  place,  this  beaver-dam, 
and  all  else  that  we  so  much  enjoy." 

"  True,  my  dear ;  and  without  good  golden  guineas,  we 
should  not  have  had  Nick." 

"  But,  sir,  I  pay  as  liberally  as  he  can  wish,"  observed 
the  major.  "  If  bribes  will  buy  him,  mine  are  as  good  as 
another's." 

"  We  shall  see — under  actual  circumstances,  I  think  we 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  99 

shall  be,  in  every  respect,  safer,  by  keeping  nothing  back, 
than  by  toiling  all  to  thu  people." 

The  captain  now  put  on  his  hat,  and  issued  through  tho 
undefended  gate-way,  followed  by  every  individual  of  hi.* 
family.  As  the  summons  had  been  general,  when  the 
Willoughbya  and  the  ehaplain  appeared  on  the  lawn,  every 
living  soul  of  that  isolated  settlement,  even  to  infants  in  the 
arms,  was  collected  there.  Tho  captain  commanded  the 
profound  respect  of  all  his  dependants,  though  a  few  among 
them  did  not  love  him.  The  fault  was  not  his,  however, 
but  was  inherent  rather  in  the  untoward  characters  of  the 
disaffected  themselves.  His  habits  of  authority  were  un- 
suited  to  their  habits  of  a  presuming  equality,  perhaps;  and 
it  is  impossible  for  the  comparatively  powerful  and  allluent 
to  escape  the  envy  and  repinings  of  men,  who,  unable  to 
draw  the  real  distinctions  that  separate  the  gentleman  from 
the  low-minded  and  grovelling,  impute  their  advantages  to 
accidents  and  money.  But,  even  the  lew  who  permitted  this 
malign  and  corrupting  tendency  to  influence  their  feeling, 
could  not  deny  that  their  master  was  just  and  benevolent, 
though  he  did  not  always  exhibit  this  justice  and  benevo 
lence  precisely  in  the  way  best  calculated  to  soothe  their 
own  craving  self-love,  and  exaggerated  notions  of  assumed 
natural  claims.  In  a  word,  captain  Wiiioughby,  in  the  eyes 
of  a  few  unquiet  and  bloated  imaginations  among  his  people, 
was  obnoxious  to  the  imputation  of  pride;  and  this  because 
he  saw  and  felt  the  consequences  of  education,  habits,  man 
ners,  opinions  and  sentiments  that  were  hidden  from  those 
who  not  only  had  no  perception  of  their  existence,  but  who 
had  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  qualities  that  brought 
them  into  being.  Pope's  familiar  line  of  "  what  can  we 
reason  but  from  what  we  know?"  is  peculiarly  applicable 
to  persons  of  this  class  ;  who  are  ever  for  dra^mi;  all  things 
down  to  standards  created  by  their  own  ignorance ;  and 
who,  slaves  of  the  basest  and  meanest  passions,  reason  as 
if  they  were  possessors  of  all  the  knowledge,  sensibilities 
nnd  refinements  of  their  own  country  and  times.  Of  this 
class  of  men,  comes  the  ordinary  demagogue,  a  wretch 
equally  incapable  of  setting  an  example  of  any  of  the  higher 
qualities,  in  his  own  person  or  practice,  and  of  appreciating 
it  when  exhibited  by  others.  Such  men  abound  under  all 


100  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

systems  where  human  liberty  is  highly  privileged,  being  the 
moral  fungi  of  freedom,  as  the  rankest  weeds  are  known  to 
be  the  troublesome  and  baneful  productions  of  the  richest 
soils. 

It  was  no  unusual  thing  for  the  people  of  the  Hutted  Knoll 
to  be  collected,  in  the  manner  we  have  described.  We  are 
writing  of  a  period,  that  the  present  enlightened  generation 
is  apt  to  confound  with  the  darker  ages  of  American  know 
ledge,  in  much  that  relates  to  social  usages  at  least,  though 
it  escaped  the  long-buried  wisdom  of  the  Mormon  bible,  and 
Miller's  interpretations  of  the  prophecies.  In  that  day,  men 
were  not  so  silly  as  to  attempt  to  appear  always  wise ;  but 
some  of  the  fetes  and  festivals  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors 
were  still  tolerated  among  us ;  the  all-absorbing  and  all- 
swallowing  jubilee  of  "  Independence-day"  not  having  yet 
overshadowed  everything  else  in  the  shape  of  a  holiday. 
Now,  captain  Willoughby  had  brought  with  him  to  the 
colonies  the  love  of  festivals  that  is  so  much  more  prevalent 
in  the  old  world  than  in  the  new ;  and  it  was  by  no  means 
an  uncommon  thing  for  him  to  call  his  people  together,  to 
make  merry  on  a  birth-day,  or  the  anniversary  of  some 
battle  in  which  he  had  been  one  of  the  victors.  When  he 
appeared  on  the  lawn,  on  the  present  occasion,  therefore,  it 
was  expected  he  was  about  to  meet  them  with  some  such 
announcement. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  manor,  or  the  estate  of  the  Hutted 
Knoll,  might  be  divided  into  three  great  physical,  and  we 
might  add  moral  categories,  or  races,  viz  :  the  Anglo-Saxon, 
the  Dutch,  both  high  and  low,  and  the  African.  The  first 
was  the  most  numerous,  including  the  families  of  the  millers, 
most  of  the  mechanics,  and  that  of  Joel  Strides,  the  land- 
overseer  ;  the  second  was  composed  chiefly  of  labourers  ; 
and  the  last  were  exclusively  household  servants,  with  the 
exception  of  one  of  the  Plinys,  who  was  a  ploughman, 
though  permitted  to  live  with  his  kinsfolk  in  the  Hut. 
These  divisions,  Maud,  in  one  of  her  merry  humours,  had 
nick-named  the  three  tribes  ;  while  her  father,  to  make  the 
enumeration  complete,  had  classed  the  serjeant,  Mike,  and 
Jamie  Allen,  as  supernumeraries. 

The  three  tribes,  and  the  three  supernumeraries,  then, 
were  all  collected  on  the  lawn,  as  the  captain  and  his  family 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  101 

approached.  Iiy  a  sort  of  secret  instinct,  too,  they  had 
divided  themselves  into  knots,  the  Dutch  keeping  a  little 
aloof  from  the  \ankees;  and  the  blacks,  almost  as  a  matter 
of  reli-ion,  Mantling  a  .short  distance  in  the  rear,  as  became 
people  ofihrir  colour,  and  slaves.  Mike  and  Jamie,  how 
ever,  had  ^ot  u  sort  of  neutral  position,  between  the  two 
great  divisions  of  the  whites,  as  if  equally  indifferent  to  their 
iMons  or  antipathies.  In  this  manner  all  parties  stood, 
impatiently  awaiting  an  announcement  that  had  been  so 
long  delayed.  The  captain  advanced  to  the  front,  and  re 
moving  his  hat,  a  ceremony  he  always  observed  on  similar 
occasions,  and  which  had  the  effect  to  make  his  listeners 
imitate-  his  own  courtesy,  he  addressed  the  crowd. 

"  When  people  live  together,  in  a  wilderness  like  this," 
commenced  the  captain,  "  there  ought  to  be  no  secrets  be 
tween  them,  my  friends,  in  matters  that  touch  the  common 
interests.  \Ve  are  like  men  on  a  remote  island  ;  a  sort  of 
colony  of  our  own  ;  and  we  must  act  fairly  and  frankly  by 
each  other.  In  this  spirit,  then,  1  am  now  about  to  lay  be 
fore  you,  all  that  I  know  myself,  concerning  an  affair  of  the 
last  importance  to  the  colonies,  and  to  the  empire."  Here 
Joel  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  cast  a  knowing  glance  at  *  the 
miller,'  a  countryman  and  early  neighbour  of  his  own,  who 
had  charge  of  the  grinding  for  the  settlement,  and  who  went 
by  that  appellation  * p<ir  excellence /'  "You  all  know," 
continued  the  captain,  "  that  there  have  been  serious  diffi 
culties  between  the  colonies  and  parliament,  now,  for  more 
than  ten  years;  difficulties  that  have  been,  once  or  twice, 
partially  settled,  but  which  have  as  often  broken  out,  in  some 
new  shape,  as  soon  as  an  old  quarrel  was  adjusted." 

IT  re  the  captain  paused  a  moment;  and  Joel,  who  was 
the  usual  spokesman  of  '  the  people,'  took  an  occasion  to 
put  a  question. 

"  The  captain  means,  I  s'pose,"  he  said,  in  a  sly,  half- 
honest,  half-jcsuitical  manner,  "the  right  of  parliament  to 
tax  us  Americans,  without  our  own  consent,  or  our  having 
any  members  in  th'-ir  Icg//sla/oorp?" 

"  I  mean  what  you  say.  The  tax  on  tea,  the  shutting  the 
port  •  .  and  other  steps,  have  brought  larger  bodies 

of  the  kinir's  troops  among  us,  than  have  been  usual.  Boston, 
as  you  probably  know,  has  had  a  strong  garrison,  now,  for 

y 


102  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

some  months.  About  six  weeks  since,  the  commander-in- 
chief  sent  a  detachment  out  as  far  as  Concord,  in  New 
Hampshire,  to  destroy  certain  stores.  This  detachment  had 
a  meeting  with  the  minute-men,  and  blood  was  drawn.  A 
running  fight  ensued,  in  which  several  hundreds  have  been 
killed  and  wounded ;  and  I  think  I  know  both  sides  suffi 
ciently  well,  to  predict  that  a  long  and  bloody  civil  war  is 
begun.  These  are  facts  you  should  know,  and  accordingly 
I  tell  them  to  you." 

This  simple,  but  explicit,  account  was  received  very  dif 
ferently,  by  the  different  listeners.  Joel  Strides  leaned  for 
ward,  with  intense  interest,  so  as  not  to  lose  a  syllable. 
Most  of  the  New  Englanders,  or  Yankees,  paid  great  atten 
tion,  and  exchanged  meaning  glances  with  each  other,  when 
the  captain  had  got  through.  As  for  Mike,  he  grasped  a 
shillelah  that  he  habitually  carried,  when  not  at  work,  look 
ing  round,  as  if  waiting  for  orders  from  the  captain,  on 
whom  to  begin.  Jamie  was  thoughtful  and  grave,  and,  once 
or  twice,  as  the  captain  proceeded,  he  scratched  his  head  in 
doubt.  The  Dutch  seemed  curious,  but  bewildered,  gaping 
at  each  other  like  men  who  might  make  up  their  minds,  if 
you  wouM  give  them  time,  but  who  certainly  had  not  yet. 
As  for  the  blacks,  their  eyes  began  to  open  like  saucers, 
when  they  heard  of  the  quarrel ;  when  it  got  to  the  blows, 
their  mouths  were  all  grinning  with  the  delight  of  a  thing 
so  exciting.  At  the  mention  of  the  number  of  the  dead, 
however,  something  like  awe  passed  over  them,  and  changed 
their  countenances  to  dismay.  Nick  alone  was  indifferent. 
By  the  cold  apathy  of  his  manner,  the  captain  saw  at  once 
that  the  battle  of  Lexington  had  not  been  a  secret  to  the 
Tuscarora,  when  he  commenced  his  own  account.  As  the 
captain  always  encouraged  a  proper  familiarity  in  his  de 
pendants,  he  now  told  them  he  was  ready  to  answer  any 
questions  they  might  think  expedient  to  put  to  him,  in  grati 
fication  of  their  natural  curiosity. 

"  I  s'pose  this  news  comes  by  the  major?"  asked  Joel. 
"  You  may  well  suppose  that,  Strides.     My  son  is  here, 
and  we  have  no  other  means  of  getting  it." 

"  Will  yer  honour  be  wishful  that  we  shoulther  our  fire 
arms,  and  go  out  and  fight  one  of  them  sides,  or  t'other?" 
demanded  Mike. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  103 

"  I  wish  nothing  of  the  sort,  O'Hearn.  It  will  be  time 
enough  ll>r  us  to  lake  a  decided  part,  when  we  get  better 
ideas  of  what  is  really  going  on." 

**  Does'nt  the  captain,  then,  think  matters  have  got  far 
enough  towards  a  head,  for  the  Americans  to  make  up  their 
minds  conclusively,  as  it  might  be?"  put  in  Joel,  in  his  very 
manner. 

"  I  think  it  will  be  wiser  for  us  all  to  remain  where  we 
are,  and  as  we  are.  Civil  war  is  a  serious  matter,  Strides, 
and  no  man  should  rush  blindly  into  its  dangers  and  diffi- 
culti* 

Joel  looked  at  the  miller,  and  the  miller  looked  at  Joel. 
Neither  said  anything,  however,  at  the  time.  Jamie  Allen, 
had  been  out  in  the  *  forty-five,'  when  thirty  years  younger 
than  he  was  that  day  ;  and  though  he  had  his  predilections 
and  antipathies,  circumstances  had  taught  him  prudence. 

"  Will  the  parliament,  think  ye,  no  be  bidding  the  sol 
diery  to  wark  their  will  on  the  puir  unairtned  folk,  up  and 
down  the  country,  and  they  not  provided  with  the  means  to 
resist  them  ?" 

"  Och,  Jamie  !"  interrupted  Mike,  who  did  not  appear  to 
deem  it  necessary  to  treat  this  matter  with  even  decent  re 
spect — "  where  will  be  yer  valour  and  stomach,  to  ask  sich 
a  question  as  that !  A  man  is  always  reathy,  when  he  has 
his  ar-r-ms  and  legs  free  to  act  accorthing  to  natur'.  What 
would  a  rigiment  of  throops  do  ag'in  the  likes  of  sich  a  place 
as  this  ?  1  'm  sure  it 's  tin  years  I  Ve  been  in  it,  and  I  've 
niver  been  able  to  find  my  way  out  of  it.  Set  a  souldier  to 
rowing  on  the  lake  forenent  the  rising  sun,  with  orders  to 
get  tb  the  other  ind,  and  a  pretty  job  he  'd  make  of  march 
ing  on  that  same  !  I  knows  it,  for  I  Ve  thried  it,  and  it  is 
not  a  new  beginner  that  will  make  much  of  sich  oars; 
barring  he  knows  nothin'  about  them." 

This  was  not  very  intelligible  to  anybody  but  Joel,  and  he 
had  ceased  to  laugh  at  Mike's  voyage,  now,  some  six  or 
seven  years  ;  divers  other  disasters,  all  having  their  origin 
in  a  similar  confusion  of  ideas,  having,  in  the  interval,  sup 
planted  that  calamity,  as  it  mi<,r'it  be,  seriatim.  Still  it  was 
an  indication  that  Mike  might  be  set  down  as  u  belligerent, 
who  was  disposed  to  follow  his  leader  into  the  battle,  \vithout 
troubling  him  with  many  questions  «•:  ocerning  the  merits 


104  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

of  the  quarrel.  Nevertheless,  the  county  Leitrim-man  ac 
knowledged  particular  principles,  all  of  which  had  a  certain 
influence  on  his  conduct,  whenever  he  could  get  at  them,  to 
render  them  available.  First  and  foremost,  he  cordially 
disliked  a  Yankee  ;  and  he  hated  an  Englishman,  both  as  an 
oppressor  and  a  heretic  ;  yet  he  loved  his  master  and  all  that 
belonged  to  him.  These  were  contradictory  feelings,  cer 
tainly  ;  but  Mike  was  all  contradiction,  both  in  theory  and 
in  practice. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  tribe  now  professed  a  willingness  to 
retire,  promising  to  'think  of  the  matter,  a  course  against 
which  Mike  loudly  protested,  declaring  he  never  knew  any 
good  come  of  thinking,  when  matters  had  got  as  far  as 
blows.  Jamie,  too,  went  off  scratching  his  head,  and  he 
was  seen  to  make  many  pauses,  that  day,  between  the 
shovels-full  of  earth  he,  from  time  to  time,  threw  around 
his  plants,  as  if  pondering  on  what  he  had  heard.  As  for 
the  Dutch,  their  hour  had  not  come.  No  one  expected  them 
to  decide  the  day  they  first  heard  of  argument. 

The  negroes  got  together,  and  began  to  dwell  on  the 
marvels  of  a  battle  in  which  so  many  Christians  had  been 
put  to  death.  Little  Smash  placed  the  slain  at  a  few  thou 
sands  ;  but  Great  Smash,  as  better  became  her  loftier  appel 
lation  and  higher  spirit,  affirmed  that  the  captain  had  stated 
hundreds  of  thousands ;  a  loss,  with  less  than  which,  as 
she  contended,  no  great  battle  could  possibly  be  fought. 

When  the  captain  was  housed,  Serjeant  Joyce  demanded 
an  audience ;  the  object  of  which  was  simply  to  ask  for 
orders^  without  the  least  reference  to  principles. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  ]  05 


CHAPTER   VII. 


We  arc  all  here  ! 

Father,  mother, 

Sister,  brother, 

All  who  hold  each  other  dear. 
Each  chair  is  fill'd — we  're  all  ut  home; 
To-night  K't  no  cold  stranger  come  : 
It  is  i,  .t  ..:>,  ii  thus  around 
Our  old  familiar  hearth  we're  found  : 
.  thru,  the  meeting  and  the  spot; 
For  once  be  every  care  forgot; 
Let  gentle  Peace  assert  her  power, 
And  kind  Affection  rule  the  hour; 

We  're  all— all  here. 

SPRAGUE. 

ALTHOUGH  most  of  the  people  retired  to  their  dwellings, 
or  their  labours,  as  soon  as  the  captain  dismissed  them,  a 
few  remained  to  receive  his  farther  orders.  Among  theso 
last  were  Joel,  the  carpenter,  and  the  blacksmith.  Tin -so 
men  now  joined  the  chief  of  the  settlement  and  his  son,  who 
had  lingered  near  the  gateway,  in  conversation  concerning 
the  alterations  that  the  present  state  of  things  might  render 
necessary,  in  and  about  the  Hut. 

"  Joel,"  observed  the  captain,  when  the  three  men  were 
near  enough  to  hear  his  orders,  "  this  great  change  in  the 
times  will  render  some  changes  in  our  means  of  defence 
prudent,  if  not  necessary." 

"  Does  the  captain  s'pose  the  people  of  the  colony  will 
attack  vs?"  asked  the  wily  overseer,  with  emphasis. 

"  Perhaps  not  the  people  of  the  colony,  Mr.  Stride,  l'»r 
t\c  not  yet  declared  ourselves  their  enemies  ;  but  there 
are  other  foes,  who  are  more  to  be  apprehended  than  the 
people  of  the  colony." 

"  I  should  think  the  king's  troops  not  likely  to  trouble 
themselves  to  ventur'  here — the  road  might  prove  easier  to 
come  than  to  return.  Besides,  our  plunder  would  scarce 
pay  for  such  a  march." 


r 


106  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  Perhaps  not  —  but  there  never  has  yet  been  a  war  in 
these  colonies  that  some  of  the  savage  tribes  were  not  en 
gaged  in  it,  before  the  whites  had  fairly  got  themselves  into 
line." 

"  Do  you  really  think,  sir,  there  can  be  much  serious 
danger  of  that!"  exclaimed  the  major,  in  surprise. 

"  Beyond  a  question,  my  son.  The  scalping-knife  will 
be  at  work  in  six  months,  if  it  be  not  busy  already,  should 
one-half  of  your  reports  and  rumours  turn  out  to  be  true. 
Such  is  American  history." 

"  I  rather  think,  sir,  your  apprehensions  for  my  mother 
and  sisters  may  mislead  you.  I  do  not  believe  the  Ameri 
can  authorities  will  ever  allow  themselves  to  be  driven  into 
a  measure  so  perfectly  horrible  and  unjustifiable ;  and  were 
the  English  ministry  sufficiently  cruel,  or  unprincipled,  to 
adopt  the  policy,  the  honest  indignation  of  so  humane  a 
people  would  be  certain  to  drive  them  from  power." 

As  the  major  ceased  speaking,  he  turned  and  caught  the 
expression  of  Joel's  countenance,  and  was  struck  with  the 
look  of  intense  interest  with  which  the  overseer  watched  his 
own  warm  and  sincere  manner. 

"  Humanity  is  a  very  pretty  stalking-horse  for  political 
orations,  Bob,"  quietly  returned  the  father ;  "  but  it  will 
scarcely  count  for  much  with  an  old  campaigner.  God 
send  you  may  come  out  of  this  war  with  the  same  ingenu 
ous  and  natural  feelings  as  you  go  into  it." 

"  The  major  will  scarce  dread  the  savages,  should  he  be 
on  the  side  of  his  nat'ral  friends !"  remarked  Joel ;  "  and  if 
what  he  says  about  the  humanity  of  the  king's  advisers  be 
true,  he  will  be  safe  from  them" 

"  The  major  will  be  on  the  side  to  which  duty  calls  him, 
Mr.  Strides,  if  it  may  be  agreeable  to  your  views  of  the 
matter,"  answered  the  young  man,  with  a  little  more  hau 
teur  than  the  occasion  required. 

The  father  felt  uneasy,  and  he  regretted  that  his  son  had 
been  so  indiscreet ;  though  he  saw  no  remedy  but  by  draw 
ing  the  attention  of  the  men  to  the  matter  before  them. 

"  Neither  the  real  wishes  of  the  people  of  America,  nor  of 
the  people  of  England,  will  avail  much,  in  carrying  on  this 
war,"  he  said.  "  Its  conduct  will  fall  into  the  hands  of 
those  who  will  look  more  to  the  ends  than  to  the  means ; 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  107 

and  success  will  be  iomid  a  .--ullieirnt  apology  for  any  w 
This  h::-  i-een  the  history  of  all  the  wars  of  my  tinir,  audit 
is  likely  to  prove  tL-  hisiury  of  this.     1   il-ar  it  will  mako 
little  difference  to  us  on  which  side  we  may  be  in  feeling; 
there  will  be  s;r  uar.l  against  in  either  case.     This 

gate  must  be  hung,  one  of  the  first  things,  Joel ;  and  I  havo 
serious  thoughts  of  placing  palisades  around  the  Knoll. 
The  Hut,  well  palisaded,  would  make  a  work  that  could  not 
be  easily  carried,  without  artillery." 

Joel  seemed  struck  with  the  idea,  though  it  did  not  appear 
that  it  was  favourably.  He  stood  studying  the  house  and 
the  massive  gates  for  a  minute  or  two,  ere  he  delivered  his 
sentiments  on  the  subject.  When  he  did  speak,  it  was  a 
good  deal  more  in  doubt,  than  in  approbation. 

"It's  all  very  true,  captain,"  he  said;  the  house  would 
seem  to  be  a  good  deal  more  safe  like,  if  the  gates  were  up ; 
but,  a  body  don't  know ;  sometimes  gates  be  a  security,  and 
sometimes  they  isn't.  It  all  depends  on  which  side  the 
danger  comes.  Still,  as  these  are  made,  and  finished  all  to 
hanging,  it's  'most  a  pity,  too,  they  shouldn't  be  used,  if  a 
body  could  find  time." 

"  The  time  must  be  found,  and  the  gates  be  hung,"  inter- 
rupted  the  captain,  too  much  accustomed  to  Joel's  doubting, 
'sort-o'-concluding  manner,  to  be  always  patient  under  the 
infliction.  "  Not  only  the  gates,  but  the  palisades  must  be 
got  out,  holes  dug,  and  the  circumvallation  completed." 

"  It  must  be  as  the  captain  says,  of  course,  he  being 
master  here.  But  time 's  precious  in  May.  There 's  half 
our  planlin'  to  be  done  yet,  and  some  of  the  ground  hasn't 
got  the  last  ploughin'.  Harvest  won't  come  without  seed 
time  ;  for  no  man,  let  him  be  great,  or  let  him  be  small  — 
and  it  does  seem  to  me  a  sort  o'  wastin'  of  the  Lord's 
blessin's,  to  be  hangin'  gates,  and  diiigin'  holes  for  that  — 
the  thing  the  captain  mentioned  —  when  there's  no  visible 
T  in  sight  to  recommend  the  measure  to  prudence,  as 
it  mi-ht  be." 

"  That  may  be  your  opinion,  Mr.  Strides,  but  it  is  not 
mine.  I  intend  to  guard  against  a  visible  danger  that  is  out 
of  sight,  and  I  will  thank  you  to  have  these  gates  hung,  this 
very  day." 

"  This  very  day ! — The  captain's  a  mind  to  be  musical 


108  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

about  the  matter !  Every  hand  in  the  settlement  couldn't 
get  them  gates  in  their  places  in  less  than  a  week." 

"  It  appears  to  me.  Strides,  you  are  '  playing  on  the  music,' 
as  you  call  it,  yourself,  now  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,  captain ;  them  gates  will  have  to  be  hung 
on  the  mechanic  principle ;  and  it  will  take  at  least  two  or 
three  days  for  the  carpenter  and  blacksmith  to  get  up  the 
works  that 's  to  do  it.  Then  the  hanging,  itself,  I  should 
think  would  stand  us  in  hand  a  day  for  each  side.  As  for 
the  circumvalley,  what  between  the  cuttin',  and  haulin',  and 
diggin',  and  settin',  that  would  occupy  all  hands  until  after 
first  hoein'.  That  is,  hoein'  would  come  afore  the  plantinV 

"  It  does  not  appear  to  me,  Bob,  such  a  heavy  job  as  Joel 
represents  !  The  gates  are  heavy,  certainly,  and  may  take 
us  a  day  or  two  ;  but,  as  for  stockading — I  've  seen  barracks 
stockaded  in,  in  a  week,  if  I  remember  right.  You  know 
something  of  this — what  is  your  opinion?' 

"That  this  house  can  be  stockaded  in,  in  the  time  you 
mention  ;  and,  as  I  have  a  strong  reluctance  to  leave  the 
family  before  it  is  in  security,  with  your  permission  I  will 
remain  and  superintend  the  work." 

The  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  on  more  accounts  than 
one ;  and  the  captain,  accustomed  to  be  obeyed  when  he 
was  in  earnest,  issued  his  orders  forthwith,  to  let  the  work 
proceed.  Joel,  however,  was  excused,  in  order  that  he 
might  finish  the  planting  he  had  commenced,  and  which  a 
very  few  hands  could  complete  within  the  required  time. 
As  no  ditch  was  necessary,  the  work  was  of  a  very  simple 
nature,  and  the  major  set  about  his  portion  of  it  without  even 
re-entering  the  house. 

The  first  thing  was  to  draw  a  line  for  a  trench  some  six 
or  seven  feet  deep,  that  was  to  encircle  the  whole  building, 
at  a  distance  of  about  thirty  yards  from  the  house.  This 
line  ran,  on  each  side  of  the  Hut,  on  the  very  verge  of  the 
declivities,  rendering  the  flanks  far  more  secure  than  the 
front,  where  it  crossed  the  lawn  on  a  gently  inclining  sur 
face.  In  one  hour  the  major  had  traced  this  line,  with  accu 
racy  ;  and  he  had  six  or  eight  men  at  work  with  spades, 
digging  the  trench.  A  gang  of  hands  was  sent  into  the 
woods,  with  orders  to  cut  the  requisite  quantity  of  young 
chestnuts;  and,  by  noon,  a  load  of  the  material  actually 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  109 

appeared  on  the  ground.     Still,  nothing  was  done  to  the 

To  own  the  truth,  the  captain  was  now  delighted.  Tim 
scene  reminded  him  of  some  in  liis  military  life,  and  ho 
bustled  about,  giving  his  orders,  with  a  good  deal  of  the  firo 
ith  renewed,  taking  care,  however,  in  no  manner  to 
re  with  the  plans  of  his  son.  .Mike  buried  himsdf 
like  a  mole,  and  had  actually  advanced  several  feet,  before 
either  of  the  Yankees  had  got  even  a  fair  footing  on  the 
bottom  of  his  part  of  the  trench.  As  for  Jamie  Allen,  ho 
went  to  work  with  deliberation  ;  but  it  was  not  long  before 
his  naked  gray  hairs  were  seen  on  a  level  with  the  surface 
of  the  ground.  The  digging  was  not  hard,  though  a  little 
Moiiy,  and  the  work  proceeded  with  spirit  and  success.  All 
that  day,  and  the  next,  and  the  next,  and  the  next,  the  Knoll 
app.-arcd  alive,  earth  being  cast  upward,  teams  moving, 
carpenters  sawing,  and  labourers  toiling.  Many  of  the  men 
protested  that  their  work  was  useless,  unnecessary,  unlaw 
ful  even  ;  but  no  one  dared  hesitate  under  the  eyes  of  the 
major,  when  his  father  had  once  issued  a  serious  command. 
In  the  mean  time,  Joel's  planting  was  finished,  though  he 
made  many  long  pauses  while  at  work  on  the  flats,  to  look 
up  and  ga/c  at  the  scene  of  activity  and  bustle  that  was 
presented  at  the  Knoll.  On  the  fourth  day,  towards  even 
ing,  he  was  obliged  to  join  the  general  "  bee,"  with  the  few 
Irmds  he  had  retained  with  himself. 

By  this  lime,  the  trench  was  dug,  most  of  the  timber  was 
prepared,  and  the  business  of  setting  up  the  stockade  was 
commenced.  Each  young  tree  was  cut  to  the  length  of 
twenty  feet,  and  pointed  at  one  end.  Mortices,  to  receive 
cross-pieces,  were  cut  at  proper  distances,  and  holes  v.e;e 
bored  to  admit  the  pins.  This  was  all  the  preparation,  and 
the  timbers  were  set  in  the  trench,  pointed  ends  uppermost. 
When  a  snlTioient  number  were  thus  arranged,  a  few  inches 
from  each  other,  the  cross-pieces  were  pinned  on,  bringing 
tlie  whole  info  a  single  connected  frame,  or  bent.  Th 
^•is  then  raised  to  a  perpendicular,  and  secured,  by  pound- 
ing  the  earth  around  the  lower  ends  of  the  timbers.  The 
latter  process  required  care  and  judgment,  and  it  was  en 
trusted  to  the  especial  supervision  of  the  deliberate  Jamie ; 
the  major  having  discovered  that  the  Yankees,  in  general, 

VOL.  I.— 10 


110  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

were  too  impatient  to  get  on,  and  to  make  a  show.  Serjeant 
Joyce  was  particularly  useful  in  dressing  the  rows  of  tim 
ber,  and  in  giving  the  whole  arrangement  a  military  air. 

"  Guid  wark  is  far  better  than  quick  wark,"  observed  the 
cool-headed  Scotchman,  as  he  moved  about  among  the  men, 
"  and  it 's  no  the  fuss  and  bustle  of  acteevity  that  is  to  give 
the  captain  pleasure.  The  thing  that  is  well  done,  is  done 
with  the  least  noise  arid  confusion.  Set  the  stockades  mair 
pairpendic'lar,  my  men." 

"  Ay — dress  them,  too,  my  lads" — added  the  venerable 
ex-serjeant. 

"  This  is  queer  plantin',  Jamie,"  put  in  Joel,  "  and  queerer 
grain  will  come  of  it.  Do  you  think  these  young  chestnuts 
will  ever  grow,  ag'in,  that  you  put  them  out  in  rows,  like  so 
much  corn?" 

"  Now  it 's  no  for  the  growth  we  does  it,  Joel,  but  to  pre- 
sairve  the  human  growth  we  have.  To  keep  the  savage 
bairbers  o'  the  wilderness  fra'  clippin'  our  polls  before  the 
shearin'  time  o'  natur'  has  gathered  us  a'  in  for  the  hairvest 
of  etairnity.  They  that  no  like  the  safety  we  're  makin'  for 
them,  can  gang  their  way  to  'ither  places,  where  they  '11  find 
no  forts,  or  stockades  to  trouble  their  een." 

"I'm  not  critical  at  all,  Jamie,  though  to  my  notion  a 
much  better  use  for  your  timber  plantation  would  be  to  turn 
it  into  sheds  for  cattle,  in  the  winter  months.  I  can  see  some 
good  in  that,  but  none  in  this" 

"  Bad  luck  to  ye,  then,  Misthcr  Sthroddle,"  cried  Mike, 
from  the  bottom  of  the  trench,  where  he  was  using  a  pound 
ing  instrument  with  the  zeal  of  a  paviour — "  Bad  luck  to  the 
likes  of  ye,  say  T,  Misther  Strides.  If  ye  've  no  relish  for  a 
fortification,  in  a  time  of  war,  ye've  only  to  shoulther  yer 
knapsack,  and  go  out  into  the  open  counthry,  where  ye  'II 
have  all  to  yer  own  satisfaction.  Is  it  forthify  the  house, 
will  we?  That  we  will,  and  not  a  hair  of  the  missuss's 
head,  nor  of  the  )roung  ladies'  heads,  nor  of  the  masther's 
head,  though  he's  mighty  bald  as  it  is,  but  not  a  hair  of  all 
their  heads  shall  be  harmed,  while  Jamie,  and  Mike,  and 
the  bould  ould  serjeant,  here,  can  have  their  way.  I  wish 
I  had  the  trench  full  of  yer  savages,  and  a  gineral  funeral 
we  'd  make  of  the  vagabonds  !  Och  !  They  're  the  divil's 
imps,  I  hear  from  all  sides,  and  no  love  do  I  owe  them." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  Ill 

"  And  yet  you  're  the  bosom  friend  of  Nick,  who's  any 
thing  l)iit  what  I  call  a  specimen  of  his  people." 

"Is  it  Nick  ye 're  afther  >  \\V1I,  Nick's  half-civilized 
accorthin'  to  yer  Yankee  manners,  and  he's  no  spicimen, 
at  all.  Let  him  hear  you  call  him  by  sich  a  name,  if  \  e 
want  throtible." 

Joel  walked  away  muttering,  leaving  the  labourers  in 
doubt  whether  he  relished  least  the  w..rk  he  was  now  obliged 
to  unite  in  furthering,  or  Mike's  hit  at  his  own  peculiar  peo 
ple.  Still  the  work  proceeded,  and  in  one  week  from  the 
day  it  was  commenced,  the  stockade  was  complete,  its  gate 
pled.  The.  entrance  through  the  palisades  was  directly 
in  front  of  that  to  the  house,  and  both  passages  still  remain 
ed  open,  one  set  of  gates  not  being  completed,  and  the  other 
not  yet  beini;  hum:. 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  evening  when  the  last  palisade  was 
placed  firmly  in  the  ground,  and  all  the  signs  of  the  recent 
labour  were  removed,  in  order  to  restore  as  much  of  the 
former  beauty  of  the  Knoll  as  possible.  It  had  been  a  busy 
week;  so  much  so,  indeed,  as  to  prevent  the  major  from 
holding  any  of  that  confidential  intercourse  with  his  mother 
and  sisters,  in  which  it  had  been  his  habit  to  indulge  in  for- 
m-T  visits.  The  fatigues  of  the  days  sent  everybody  to  their 
pillows  early  ;  and  the  snatches  of  discourse  which  passed, 
had  been  affectionate  and  pleasant,  rather  than  communica 
tive.  Now  that  the  principal  job  was  so  near  being  finished, 
however,  and  the  rubbish  was  cleared  away,  the  captain 
summoned  the  family  to  the  lawn  again,  to  enjoy  a  delicious 
evening  near  the  close  of  the  winning  month  of  May.  The 
season  was  early,  and  the  weather  more  bland,  than  was 
usual,  even  in  that  sheltered  and  genial  valley.  For  the 
first  time  that  year,  Mrs.  Willoughby  consented  to  order  the 
lipago  to  be  carried  to  a  permanent  table  that  had  been 
placed  under  the  shade  of  a  fine  elm,  in  readiness  for  any 
'nimpttrc  of  this  simple  character. 

"  Come,  Wilhelmina,  give  us  a  cup  of  your  fragrant 
i.  of  which  we  have  luckily  abundance,  tax  or  no  tax. 
I  should  lose  caste,  were  it  known  how  much  American 
treason  we  have  gulped  down,  in  this  way  ;  hut,  a  little  tea, 
up  here  in  the  forest,  can  do  no  man's  conscience  any  great 
violence,  in  the  long  run.  I  suppose,  major  Willoughby, 


112  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

His  Majesty's  forces  do  not  disdain  tea,  in  these  stirring 
times." 

"  Far  from  it,  sir ;  we  deem  it  so  loyal  to  drink  it,  that  it 
is  said  the  port  and  sherry  of  the  different  messes,  at  Boston, 
are  getting  to  be  much  neglected.  I  am  an  admirer  of  tea, 
for  itself,  however,  caring  little  about  its  collateral  qualities. 
Parrel" — "  turning  to  his  man,  who  was  aiding  Pliny  the 
elder,  in  arranging  the  table — "  when  you  are  through  here, 
bring  out  the  basket  you  will  find  on  the  toilet,  in  my 
room." 

"  True,  Bob,"  observed  the  mother,  smiling — "  that  basket 
has  scarce  been  treated  with  civility.  Not  a  syllable  of 
thanks  have  I  heard,  for  all  the  fine  things  it  contains." 

"  My  mind  has  been  occupied  with  care  for  your  safety, 
dear  mother,  and  that  must  be  my  excuse.  Now,  however, 
there  is  an  appearance  of  security  which  gives  one  a  breath 
ing-time,  and  my  gratitude  receives  a  sudden  impulse.  As 
for  you,  Maud,  I  regret  to  be  compelled  to  say  that  you 
stand  convicted  of  laziness ;  not  a  single  thing  do  I  owe  to 
your  labours,  or  recollection  of  me." 

"  Is  that  possible  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  who  was  pour 
ing  water  into  the  tea-pot.  "  Maud  is  the  last  person  I  should 
suspect  of  neglect  of  this  nature ;  I  do  assure  you,  Bob,  no 
one  listens  to  news  of  your  promotions  and  movements  with 
more  interest  than  Maud." 

Maud,  herself,  made  no  answer.  She  bent  her  head  aside, 
in  a  secret  consciousness  that  her  sister  might  alone  detect, 
and  form  her  own  conclusions  concerning  the  colour  that 
she  felt  warming  her  cheeks.  But,  Maud's  own  sensitive 
feelings  attributed  more  to  Beulah  than  the  sincere  and  sim 
ple-minded  girl  deserved.  So  completely  was  she  accustomed 
to  regard  Robert  and  Maud  as  brother  and  sister,  that  even 
all  which  had  passed  produced  no  effect  in  unsettling  her 
opinions,  or  in  .giving  her  thoughts  a  new  direction.  Just 
nt  this  moment  Parrel  came  back,  and  placed  the  basket  on 
the  bench,  at  the  side  of  his  master. 

"  Now,  my  dearest  mother,  and  you,  girls"  —  the  major 
had  begun  to  drop  the  use  of  the  word  '  sisters'  when  ad 
dressing  both,  the  young  ladies — "  Now,  my  dearest  mother, 
and  you,  girls,  I  am  about  to  give  each  her  due.  In  the  first 
place,  I  confess  my  own  unworthiness,  and  acknowledge, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  11.'? 

that  I  do  not  deserve  one-half  the  kind  attention  T  have  re. 
enved  in  these  various  presents,  after  which  we  will  d-  . 
to  panim; 

The  major,  then,  expos.  ••!  (very  article  contained  in  tho 
basket*  finding  tte  worda  "mother"  and  "  Beuiah"  pinned 

on  cai-h,  hut  nowhere  any  indication  that  his  younger  .sister 
had  even  home  liim  in  mind.  His  lather  looked  siir 
at  this,  not  to  say  a  little  grave  ;  and  he  waited,  with  evident 
curiosity,  lor  the  gilts  of  Maud,  as  one  thing  alter  another 
came  up,  without  any  signs  of  her  having  recollected  tho 
i  tee. 

"  This  is  odd,  truly,"  observed  the  father,  seriously  ;  "  I 
hope,  Bob,  you  have  done  nothing  to  deserve  this?  I  should 
be  sorry  to  have  my  little  girl  affronted  !'' 

"  1  assure  you,  sir,  that  I  am  altogether  ignorant  of  any 
act,  and  I  can  solemnly  protest  against  any  intention,  to  give 
otii-nre.  If  guilty,  I  now  pray  Maud  to  pardon  me." 

"  You  have  done  nothing,  Bob  —  said  nothing,  Bob  — 
thought  nothing  to  offend  me,"  cried  Maud,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  then,  have  you  forgotten  him,  darling,  when  your 
mother  and  sister  have  done  so  much  in  the  way  of  recol 
lection  ?"  asked  the  captain. 

"  Forced  gifts,  my  dear  father,  arc  no  gifts.  I  do  not  like 
to  be  compelled  to  make  presents." 

This  was  uttered  in  a  way  to  induce  the  major  to  throw 
all  tho  articles  hack  into  the  basket,  as  if  he  wished  to  get 
rid  of  the  subject,  without  further  comment.  Owing  to  this 
precipitation,  the  scarf  was  not  seen.  Fortunately  for  Maud, 
who  was  ready  to  burst  into  tears,  the  service  of  the  tea 
prevented  any  farther  allusion  to  the  matter. 

"  You  have  told  me,  major,"  observed  captain  Willough- 
by,  "  that  your  old  regiment  has  a  new  colonel ;  but  you 
have  forgotten  to  mention  his  name.  I  hope  it  is  my  old 
messmate,  Tom  Wallingford,  who  wrote  me  he  had  some 
such  hopes  last  year." 

"  General  Wallingford  has  got  a  Unlit-dragoon  regiment — 
general  Meredith  has  my  old  corps ;  he  is  now  in  this  coun 
try,  at  the  head  of  one  of  (lake's  brigades." 

It  is  a  strong  proof  of  the  manner  in  which  Maud — Maud 
Willoughby,  as  she  was  ever  termed — had  become  identified 
with  the  family  of  the  Hutted  Knoll,  that,  with  two  excep- 
10* 


114  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

tions,  not  a  person  present  thought  of  her,  when  the  name 
of  this  general  Meredith  was  mentioned ;  though,  in  truth, 
he  was  the  uncle  of  her  late  father.  The  exceptions  were 
the  major  and  herself.  The  former  now  never  heard  the 
name  without  thinking  of  his  beautiful  little  playfellow,  and 
nominal  sister;  while  Maud,  of  late,  had  become  curious 
and  even  anxious  on  the  subject  of  her  natural  relatives. 
Still,  a  feeling  akin  to  awe,  a  sentiment  that  appeared  as  if 
it  would  be  doing  violence  to  a  most  solemn  duty,  prevented 
her  from  making  any  allusion  to  her  change  of  thought,  in 
the  presence  of  those  whom,  during  childhood,  she  had 
viewed  only  as  her  nearest  relatives,  and  who  still  continued 
so  to  regard  her.  She  would  have  given  the  world  to  ask 
Bob  a  few  questions  concerning  the  kinsman  he  had  men 
tioned,  but  could  not  think  of  doing  so  before  her  mother, 
whatever  she  might  be  induced  to  attempt  with  the  young 
man,  when  by  himself. 

Nick  next  came  strolling  along,  gazing  at  the  stockade, 
and  drawing  near  the  table  with  an  indifference  to  persons 
and  things  that  characterized  his  habits.  When  close  to  the 
party  he  stopped,  keeping  his  eye  on  the  recent  works. 

"  You  see,  Nick,  I  am  about  to  turn  soldier  again,  in  my 
old  days,"  observed  the  captain.  "  It  is  now  many  years 
since  you  and  I  have  met  within  a  line  of  palisades.  How 
do  you  like  our  work  1" 

4;  What  you  make  him  for,  cap'in  ?" 

"  So  as  to  be  secure  against  any  red-skins  who  may  hap 
pen  to  long  for  our  scalps." 

"  Why  want  your  scalp  ?  Hatchet  hasn't  been  dug  up, 
a-tween  us — bury  him  so  deep  can't  find  him  in  ten,  two, 
six  year." 

"  Ay,  it  has  long  been  buried,  it  is  true ;  but  you  red 
gentlemen  have  a  trick  of  digging  it  up,  with  great  readi 
ness,  when  there  is  any  occasion  for  it.  I  suppose  you 
know,  Nick,  that  there  are  troubles  in  the  colonies  ?" 

"  Tell  Nick  all  about  him," — answered  the  Indian,  eva 
sively — "  No  read — no  hear — don't  talk  much — talk  most 
wid  Irisher — can't  understand  what  he  want — say  t'ing  one 
way,  den  say  him,  anoder." 

'•  Mike  is  n6t  very  lucid  of  a  certainty,"  rejoined  the  cap- 
tain,  laughing,  all  the  party  joining  in  the  merriment — "  but 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  115 

he  is  a  sterling  good  frllnw,  and  is  always  to  be  found,  in  a 

time  of  iic.  1 1." 

"Poor  rifle — n- Mx-r  hit — shoot  one  way,  look  t'other?" 
"  Ilr  i-  no  Lrivat  shot,  I  will   admit;   hut   li«-   is  a   famous 

fellow   \\i:h    a    shillaK  h.      lias    lie    gi\vn    you    any   of  the 

"All  ho  say,  n<-\vs — much  news  ten  time,  as  one  time. 
Cap'in  lend  Nick  a  quarter  dollar,  yesterday." 

"I  did  lend  you  a  quarter,  certainly,  Nick;  and  I  sup 
posed  it  had  gone  to  the  miller  for  rum,  before  this.  What 
am  I  to  understand  by  your  holding  it  out  in  this  manner? — 
that  you  mean  to  repay  mo  !" 

••  S  irtain — good  quarter — just  like  him  cap'in  lent  Nick. 
Like  as  one  pea.  Ni«-k  man  "('honour;  keep  his  word." 

"  This  does  look  more  like  it  than  common,  Nick.  The 
money  was  to  be  returned  to-day,  but  I  did  not  expect  to  see 
it,  so  many  previous  contracts  of  that  nature  having  been 
vacated,  as  the  lawyers  call  it." 

"  Tuscarora  chief  alway  gentleman.  What  he  say,  he  do. 
Good  quarter  dollar,  dat,  cap'in?" 

"  It  is  unexceptionable,  old  acquaintance ;  I  'II  not  disdain 
receiving  it,  as  it  may  serve  for  a  future  loan." 

"  No  need  bye'm-by — take  him,  now — cap'in,  lend  Nick 
dollar ;  pay  him  to-morrow." 

The  captain  protested  against  the  scquitvr  that  the  Indian 
evidently  wished  to  establish;  declining,  though  in  a  good- 
natured  manner,  to  lend  the  larger  sum.  Nick  was  disap 
pointed,  and  walked  sullenly  away,  moving  nearer  to  the 
stockade,  with  the  air  of  an  offended  man. 

"That  is  an  extraordinary  fellow,  sir!"  observed  the 
major — "  I  really  wonder  you  tolerate  him  so  much  about 
the  Hut.  It  might  be  a  good  idea  to  banish  him,  now  that 
the  war  has  broken  out." 

"  Which  would  be  a  thing  more  easily  said  than  done. 

A  drop  of  water  miuht  as  readily  be   banished   from  that 

i.  as  an  Indian  from  any  part  of  the   forest   he   may 

•  t<>  visit.     You  brought  him  here  yourself,  Bob,  and 

should  not  blame  us  lor  tolerating  his  presence." 

"I  brought  him,  sir,  because  I  found  he  recognised  me 
even  in  th',  nd  it  was  wi-o  to  make  a  friend  of  him. 

Then  I  wanted  a  guide,  and  I  was  well  assured  he  knew 


116  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

the  way,  if  any  man  did.  He  is  a  surly  scoundrel,  how 
ever,  and  appears  to  have  changed  his  character,  since  1 
was  a  boy." 

"  If  there  be  any  change,  Bob,  it  is  in  yourself.  Nick  has 
been  Nick  these  thirty  years,  or  as  long  as  I  have  known 
him.  Rascal  he  is,  or  his  tribe  would  not  have  cast  him 
out.  Indian  justice  is  stern,  but  it  is  natural  justice.  No 
man  is  ever  put  to  the  ban  among  the  red  men,  until  they 
are  satisfied  he  is  not  fit  to  enjoy  savage  rights.  In  garri 
son,  we  always  looked  upon  Nick  as  a  clever  knave,  and 
treated  him  accordingly.  When  one  is  on  his  guard  against 
such  a  fellow,  he  can  do  little  harm,  and  this  Tuscarora  has 
a  salutary  dread  of  me,  which  keeps  him  in  tolerable  order, 
during  his  visits  to  the  Hut.  The  principal  mischief  he  does 
here,  is  to  get  Mike  and  Jamie  deeper  in  the  Santa  Cruz 
than  I  could  wish  ;  but  the  miller  has  his  orders  to  sell  no 
more  rum." 

"  I  hardly  think  you  do  Nick  justice,  Willoughby,"  ob 
served  the  right-judging  and  gentle  wife.  "  He  has  some 
good  qualities ;  but  you  soldiers  always  apply  martial-law 
to  the  weaknesses  of  your  fellow-creatures." 

"  And  you  tender-hearted  women,  my  dear  Wilhelmina, 
think  everybody  as  good  as  yourselves." 

"  Remember,  Hugh,  when  your  son,  there,  had  the  can 
ker-rash,  how  actively  and  readily  the  Tuscarora  went  into 
the  forest  to  look  for  the  gold-thread  that  even  the  doctors 
admitted  cured  him.  It  was  difficult  to  find,  Robert ;  but 
Nick  remembered  a  spot  where  he  had  seen  it,  fifty  miles 
off;  and,  without  a  request  even,  from  us,  he  travelled  that 
distance  to  procure  it." 

"  Yes,  this  is  true" — returned  the  captain,  thoughtfully — 
"  though  I  question  if  the  cure  was  owing  to  the  gold-thread, 
as  you  call  it,  Wilhelmina.  Every  man  has  some  good 
quality  or  other ;  and,  I  much  fear,  some  bad  ones  also. — 
But,  here  is  the  fellow  coming  back,  and  I  do  not  like  to  let 
him  think  himself  of  sufficient  consequence  to  be  the  subject 
of  our  remarks." 

"  Very  true,  sir — it  adds  excessively  to  the  trouble  of  such 
fellows,  to  let  them  fancy  themselves  of  importance." 

Nick,  now,  came  slowly  back,  after  having  examined  the 
recent  changes  to  his  satisfaction.  He  stood  a  moment  in 


Till:      HUTTED     KNOLL.  117 

»r  tin*  table,  and  then,  assuming  an  air  of  more 
dignity  than  common,  he  addiv.-.sed  tin-  captain. 

"  Nick  ole  <•///</',"  1"'  >aid.  'l  !»'vn  at  Council  Fire,  oiVu 
as  cap'in.  Can't  tell,  all  he  know;  want  to  hear  about 
urar.*1 

4-  \\"hy,  Xick,  it  is  a  family  quarrel,  this  time.  The  French 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  Yengeesr  liiiht  \Vngccsc — um  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  so  turn  out.  Do  not  the  Tuscaroras 
somehiix's  dig  Up  t},(.  hatchet  against  th--  Tuscaroras?" 

"  Tuscarora  man  kill  Tuscarora  man — good — he  quarrel, 
and  kill  he  enemy.  But  Tuscarora  warrior  nebher  take 
scalp  of  Tus.'arora  squaw  and  j)aj>jx>osc  !  What  you  t'ink 
he  do  dat  for?  lied  man  no  hog,  to  eat  pork." 

"  It  must  be  admitted,  Nick,  you  are  a  very  literal  logi 
cian — *  dog  won't  eat  dog,'  is  our  English  saying.  Still  the 
Yankee  will  fight  the  Ycngccsr,  it  would  seem.  In  a  word, 
the  Great  Father,  in  England,  has  raised  the  hatchet  against 
hi>  American  children." 

"  How  you  like  him,  cap'in — um?  Which  go  on  straight 
path,  which  go  on  crooked  ?  How  you  like  him  .'" 

"I  like  it  little,  Nick,  and  wish  with  all  my  heart  the 
quarrel  had  not  taken  place." 

"  .Mean  to  put  on  regimentals — hah  !  Mean  to  be  cap'in, 
ag'in  ?  Follow  drum  and  fife,  like  ole  time?" 

"  I  rather  think  not,  old  comrade.  After  sixty,  one  likes 
peace  better  than  war ;  and  I  intend  to  stay  at  home." 

"  What  for,  den,  build  fort?  Why  you  put  fence  round 
a  house,  like  pound  for  sheep?" 

"  Because  I  intend  to  stay  there.  The  stockade  will  be 
good  to  keep  off  any,  or  every  enemy  who  may  take  it  into 
their  heads  to  come  against  us.  You  have  known  me  de 
fend  a  worse  position  than  this." 

"  He  got  no  gate,"  muttered  Nick—"  What  he  good  for, 
widout  gate?  Yengeese,  Yankees,  red  man,  French  man, 
walk  in  just  as  he  please.  No  good  to  leave  such  squaw 
wid  a  door  wide  open." 

"Thank  you,  Xirk,"  cried  Mrs.  Willongjiby.  "I  knew 
yon  were  my  friend,  and  have  not  forgotten  the  gold 
thread." 

"  He  very  good,"  answered  the  Indian,  with  an  important 


118  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

look.  "  Pappoose  get  well  like  not'ing.  He  a'most  die,  to 
day  ;  to-morrow  he  run  about  and  play.  Nick  do  him, 
too ;  cure  him  wid  gold-thread." 

"  Oh  !  you  are,  or  were  quite  a  physician  at  one  time, 
Nick.  I  remember  when  you  had  the  smallpox,  yourself." 

The  Indian  turned,  with  the  quickness  of  lightning,  to 
Mrs.  Willoughby,  whom  he  startled  with  his  energy,  as  he 
demanded — 

"  You  remember  dat,  Mrs.  cap'in  !  Who  gib  him — who 
cure  him — urn  ?" 

"  Upon  my  word,  Nick,  you  almost  frighten  me.  I  fear 
I  gave  you  the  disease,  but  it  was  for  your  own  good  it  was 
done.  You  were  inoculated  by  myself,  when  the  soldiers 
were  dying  around  us,  because  they  had  never  had  that 
care  taken  of  them.  All  I  inoculated  lived;  yourself  among 
the  number." 

The  startling  expression  passed  away  from  the  fierce 
countenance  of  the  savage,  leaving  in  its  place  another  so 
kind  and  amicable  as  to  prove  he  not  only  was  aware  of  the 
benefit  he  had  received,  but  that  he  was  deeply  grateful  for- 
it.  He  drew  near  to  Mrs.  Willoughby,  took  her  still  white 
and  soft  hand  in  his  own  sinewy  and  dark  fingers,  then 
dropped  the  blanket  that  he  had  thrown  carelessly  across 
his  body,  from  a  shoulder,  and  laid  it  on  a  mark  left  by  the 
disease,  by  way  of  pointing  to  her  good  work.  He  smiled, 
as  this  was  done. 

"  Ole  mark,"  he  said,  nodding  his  head — "  sign  we  good 
friend — he  nebber  go  away  while  Nick  live." 

This  touched  the  captain's  heart,  and  he  tossed  a  dollar 
towards  the  Indian,  who  suffered  it,  however,  to  lie  at  his 
feet  unnoticed.  Turning  to  the  stockade,  he  pointed  sig 
nificantly  at  the  open  gate-ways. 

"  Great  danger  go  t'rough  little  'ole,"  he  said,  senten- 
tiously,  walking  away  as  he  concluded.  "  Why  you  leave 
big  'ole  open  ?" 

"  We  must  get  those  gates  hung  next  week,"  said  the 
captain,  positively ;  "  and  yet  it  is  almost  absurd  to  appre 
hend  anything  serious  in  this  remote  settlement,  and  that  at 
so  early  a  period  in  the  war." 

Nothing  further  passed  on  the  lawn  worthy  to  be  record 
ed.  The  FUQ  set,  and  the  family  withdrew  into  the  house. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  119 

as  usual,  to  trust  to  the  overseeing  care  of  Divine  Provi- 
,  throughout  a  night  passed  in  a  wilderness.  By 
common  consent,  the  discourse  turned  upon  things  noway 
connected  with  the.  civil  war,  or  its  expected  results,  until 
tin-  party  was  about  to  separate  for  the  night,  when  the 
major  i'ound  himself  alone  with  his  sisters,  in  his  own  little 
parlour,  dressing-room,  or  study,  whatever  the  room  adjoin 
ing  liis  chamber  could  properly  l>e. called. 

••  N  on  will  not  leave  us  >o<ui,  Robert,"  said  Beulah,  taking 
her  brother's  hand,  with  confiding  affection,  "I  hardly 
think  my  father  young  and  active  enough,  or  rather  alarmed 
enough,  to  live  in  times  like  these  !" 

"  lie  is  a  soldier,  Beulah,  and  a  good  one ;  so  good  that 
his  son  can  teach  him  nothing1.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  he 
is  as  good  a  subject :  I  fear  he  leans  to  the  side  of  the  colo 
nies." 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  exclaimed  Beulah — "Oh!  that 
his  son  would  incline  in  the  same  direction." 

"  Nay,  Beulah,"  rejoined  Maud,  reproachfully ;  "  you 
speak  without  reflection.  Mamma  bitterly  regrets  that  papa 
sees  things  in  the  light  he  does.  She  thinks  the  parliament 
right,  and  the  colonies  wrong." 

"  What  a  thing  is  a  civil  war !"  ejaculated  the  major — • 
"Here  is  husband  divided  against  wife — son  against  father 
— brother  against  sister.  I  could  almost  wish  I  were  dead, 
ere  I  had  lived  to  see  this  !" 

"  Nay,  Robert,  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that,  either,"  added 
Maud.  "  My  mother  will  never  oppose  my  father's  will  or 
judgment.  Good  wives,  you  know,  never  do  that.  She  will 
only  pray  that  he  may  decide  right,  and  in  a  way  that  his 
children  will  never  have  cause  to  regret.  As  for  me,  I  count 
for  nothing,  of  coin 

And  IJeuluh,  Maud;  is  she  nothing,  too?  Here  will 
be  praying  for  her  brother's  defeat,  throughout  this 
war.  It  has  been  some  presentiment  of  this  dillerence  of 
opinion  that  has  probably  induced  you  to  forget  me,  while 
Beulah  and  my  mother  were  passing  so  many  hours  to  fill 
that  IK: 

"  Perhaps  you  do  Maud  injustice,  Robert,"  said  Beulah, 
smiling.  "  I  think  I  can  say  none  loves  you  better  than 


120  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

our  dear  sister — or  no  one  has  thought  of  you  more,  in  your 
absence." 

"  Why,  then,  does  the  basket  contain  no  proof  of  this 
remembrance — not  even  a  chain  of  hair — a  purse,  or  a  ring 
— nothing,  in  short,  to  show  that  I  have  not  been  forgotten, 
when  away." 

"  Even  if  this  be  so,"  said  Maud,  with  spirit,  "  in  what 
am  I  worse  than  yourself.  What  proof  is  there  that  you 
have  remembered  us?" 

"  This,"  answered  the  major,  laying  before  his  sisters  two 
small  packages,  each  marked  with  the  name  of  its  proper 
owner.  "  My  mother  has  her's,  too,  and  my  father  has  not 
been  forgotten." 

Beulah's  exclamations  proved  how  much  she  was  gratified 
with  her  presents ;  principally  trinkets  and  jewelry,  suited 
to  her  years  and  station.  First  kissing  the  major,  she  de 
clared  her  mother  must  see  what  she  had  received,  before 
she  retired  for  the  night,  and  hurried  from  the  room.  That 
Maud  was  not  less  pleased,  was  apparent  by  her  glowing 
cheeks  and  tearful  eyes ;  though,  for  a  wonder,  she  was  far 
more  restrained  in  the  expression  of  her  feelings.  After 
examining  the  different  articles,  with  pleasure,  for  a  minute 
or  two,  she  went,  with  a  quick  impetuous  movement,  to  the 
basket,  tumbled  alt  its  contents  on  the  table,  until  she  reach 
ed  the  scarf,  which  she  tossed  towards  the  major,  saying, 
with  a  faint  laugh — 

"There,  unbeliever — heathen — is  that  nothing?  Was 
that  made  in  a  minute,  think  you  ?" 

"  This!"  cried  the  major,  opening  the  beautiful,  glossy 
fabric  in  surprise.  "  Is  not  this  one  of  my  father's  old 
sashes,  to  which  I  have  fallen  heir,  in  the  order  of  nature?" 

Maud  dropped  her  trinkets,  and  seizing  two  corners  of  the 
sash,  she  opened  it,  in  a  way  to  exhibit  its  freshness  and 
beauty. 

"  Is  this  oZc?,  or  worn?"  she  asked,  reproachfully.  "  Your 
father  never  even  saw  it,  Bob.  It  has  not  yet  been  around 
the  waist  of  man." 

"  It  is  not  possible !— This  would  be  the  work  of  months 
— is  so  beautiful — you  cannot  have  purchased  it." 

Maud  appeared  distressed  at  his  doubts.  Opening  the 
folds  still  wider,  she  raised  the  centre  of  the  silk  to  the  light, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  121 

and  pointed  to  certain  letters  that  had  been  wrought  into  the 
fabric,  so  ingeniously  as  to  escape  ordinary  observation,  and 
yet  so  plainly  as  to  be  distinctly  legible  when  the  attention 
was  once  drawn  to  them.  The  major  took  the  sash  into  his 
own  hands  altogether,  held  it  opened  before  the  candles,  and 
read  the  words  "Maud  Meredith"  aloud.  Dropping  the 
sash,  he  turned  to  seek  the  face  of  the  donor,  but  she  had 
fled  the  room.  He  followed  her  footsteps  and  entered  the 
library,  just  as  she  was  about  to  escape  from  it,  by  a  different 
door. 

"  I  am  offended  at  your  incredulity,"  said  Maud,  making 
an  effort  to  laugh  away  the  scene,  "  and  will  not  remain  to 
hear  lame  excuses.  Your  new  regiment  can  have  no  nature 
in  it,  or  brothers  would  not  treat  sisters  thus." 

"  Maud  Meredith  is  not  my  sister,"  he  said,  earnestly, 
"  though  Maud  Willoughby  may  be.  Why  is  the  name 
Meredith  ?" 

"As  a  retort  to  one  of  your  own  allusions — did  you  not 
call  me  Miss  Meredith,  one  day,  when  I  last  saw  you  in 
Albany?" 

"  Ay,  but  that  was  in  jest,  my  dearest  Maud.  It  was  not 
a  deliberate  thing,  like  the  name  on  that  sash." 

"  Oh !  jokes  may  be  premeditated  as  well  as  murder ; 
and  many  a  one  is  murdered,  you  know.  Mine  is  a  pro 
longed  jest." 

**  Tell  me,  does  my  mother — does  Beulah  know  who  mado 
this  sash  ?" 

"  How  else  could  it  have  been  made,  Bob?  Do  you  think 
I  went  into  the  woods,  and  worked  by  myself,  like  some 
romantic  damsel  who  had  an  unmeaning  secret  to  keep 
against  the  curious  eyes  of  persecuting  friends !" 

"  I  know  not  what  I  thought — scarce  know  what  I  think 
now.  But,  my  mother;  does  she  know  of  this  name?" 

Maud  blushed  to  the  eyes ;  but  the  habit  and  the  love  of 
truth  were  so  strong  in  her,  that  she  shook  her  head  in  the 
negative. 

"  Xor  Beulah? — She,  I  am  certain,  would  not  have  per- 
mitted  '  Meredith'  to  appear  where  *  Willoughby'  should  have 
been." 

"  Nor  Beulah,  either,  major  Willoughby,"  pronouncing 
the  name  with  an  affectation  of  reverence.  "  The  honour 

VOL.  I.  — 11 


122  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

of  the  Willoughbys  is  thus  preserved  from  every  taint,  and 
all  the  blame  must  fall  on  poor  Maud  Meredith." 

"  You  dislike  the  name  of  Willoughby,  then,  and  intend 
to  drop  it,  in  future — I  have  remarked  that  you  sign  your 
self  only  '  Maud,'  in  your  last  letters — never  before,  how 
ever,  did  I  suspect  the  reason." 

"  Who  wishes  to  live  for  ever  an  impostor  ?  It  is  not  my 
legal  name,  and  I  shall  soon  be  called  on  to  perform  legal 
acts.  Remember,  Mr.  Robert  Willoughby,  I  am  twenty ; 
when  it  comes  to  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  I  must  not 
forge.  A  little  habit  is  necessary  to  teach  me  the  use  of 
my  own  bond  Jlde  signature." 

"But  ours — the  name  is  not  hateful  to  you — you  do  not 
throw  it  aside,  seriously,  for  ever !" 

"  Yours!  What,  the  honoured  name  of  my  dear,  dearest 
father — of  my  mother — of  Beulah — of  yourself,  Bob  !" 

Maud  did  not  remain  to  terminate  her  speech.  Bursting 
into  tears,  she  vanished. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

The  village  tower — 'tis  joy  to  me  ! — I  cry,  the  Lord  is  here  ! 
The  village  bells !  They  fill  the  soul  with  ecstasy  sincere. 
And  thus,  I  sing,  the  light  hath  shined  to  lands  in  darkness  hurled, 
Their  sound   is  now  in  all  the  earth,  their  words  throughout  the 
world. 

COXE. 

ANOTHER  night  past  in  peace  within  the  settlement  of 
the  Hutted  Knoll.  The  following  morning  was  the  Sabbath, 
and  it  came  forth,  balmy,  genial,  and  mild  ;  worthy  of  the 
great  festival  of  the  Christian  world.  On  the  subject  of  reli 
gion,  captain  Willoughby  was  a  little  of  a  martinet ;  under 
standing  by  liberty  of  conscience,  the  right  of  improving  by 
the  instruction  of  those  ministers  who  belonged  to  the  church 
of  England.  Several  of  his  labourers  had  left  him  because 
he  refused  to  allow  of  any  other  ministrations  on  his  estate; 
his  doctrine  being  that  every  man  had  a  right  to  do  as  he 
pleased  in  such  matters ;  and  as  he  did  not  choose  to  allow 


TUB      HUTTED     KNOLL.  123 

of  schism,  within  the  sphere  of  his  own  influence,  if  others 
1  to  be  schismatics  they  were  at  liberty  to  go  else 
where,  in  order  to  indulge  their  tastes.  Joel  Strides  and 
Jamie  Allen  were  both  disatleeted  to  this  sort  of  orthodoxy, 
and  they  h;ul  frequent  private  discussions  on  its  propriety ; 
rmer  in  his  usual  wily  and  Jesuitical  mode  of  sneering 
and  insinuating,  and  the  latter  respectfully  as  related  to  his 
,i-stly  as  it  concerned  his  conscience.  Others, 
too,  were  dissentients,  but  with  less  repining;  though  occa 
sionally  they  would  stay  away  from  Mr.  Wood's  services. 
Mike,  alone,  took  an  open  and  manly  stand  in  the  matter, 
and  he  a  little  out-Heroded  Herod  ;  or,  in  other  words,  he 
exceeded  the  captain  himself  in  strictness  of  construction. 
On  the  very  morning  we  have  just  described,  he  was  present 
at  a  discussion  between  the  Yankee  overseer  and  the 'Scotch 
mason,  in  which  these  two  dissenters,  the  first  a  congrega- 
tionalist,  and  the  lasf  a  seceder,  were  complaining  of  the 
hardships  of  a  ten  years'  abstinence,  during  which  no  spiritual 
provender  had  been  fed  out  to  them  from  a  proper  source. 
The  Irishman  broke  out  upon  the  complainants  in  a  way 
that  will  at  once  let  the  reader  into  the  secret  of  the  county 
Leitrim-man's  principles,  if  he  has  any  desire  to  know 
them. 

"  Bad  luck  to  all  sorts  of  religion  but  the  right  one  !"  cried 
Mike,  in  a  most  tolerant  spirit.  ««  Who  d'ye  think  will  be 
wishful  of  hearing  mass  and  pr'aching  that  comes  from  any 
of  your  heretick  parsons?  Ye're  as  dape  in  the  mire  yer- 
selves,  as  Mr.  Woods  is  in  the  woods,  and  no  one  to  lade 
ye  out  of  either,  but  an  evil  spirit  that  would  rather  see  all 
mankind  br'iling  in  agony,  than  dancing  at  a  fair." 

"  Go  to  your  confessional,  Mike,"  returned  Joel,  with  a 
sneer — "  It 's  a  month,  or  more,  sin'  you^  seen  it,  and  the 
priest  will  think  you  have  forgotten  him,  and  go  away 
offended." 

"Och!  It's  such  a  praist,  as  the  likes  of  yees  has  no 
nade  of  throubling  !  Yer  conscience  is  aisy,  Misther  Straddle, 
so  that  yer  belly  is  filled,  and  yer  wages  is  paid.  Bad  luck 
to  sich  religion  !" 

The  allusion  of  Joel  related  to  a  practice  of  Michael's  that 
is  deserving  of  notice.  It  seems  that  the  poor  fellow,  ex 
cluded  by  his  insulated  position  from  any  communication 


r  '  ' — ~ 

124  THE     HtlTTED     KNOLL. 

with  a  priest  of  his  own  church,  was  in  the  habit  of  resort 
ing-  to  a  particular  rock  in  the  forest,  where  he  would  kneel 
and  acknowledge  his  sins,  very  much  as  he  would  have 
done  had  the  rock  been  a  confessional  containing  one 
authorized  to  grant  him.  absolution.  Accident  revealed 
the  secret,  and  from  that  time  Michael's  devotion  was  a 
standing  jest  among  the  dissenters  of  the  valley.  The 
county  Leitrimrnan  was  certainly  a  little  too  much  ad 
dicted  to  Santa  Cruz,  and  he  was  accused  of  always  visit 
ing  his  romantic  chapel  after  a  debauch.  Of  course,  he 
was  but  little  pleased  with  Joel's  remark  on  the  present 
occasion  ;  and  being,  like  a  modern  newspaper,  somewhat 
more  vituperative  than  logical,  he  broke  out  as  related. 

"Jamie,"  continued  Joel,  too  much  accustomed  to 
Mike's  violence  to  heed  it,  "  it  does  seem  to  me  a  hardship 
to  be  obliged  to  frequent  a  church  of,  which  a  man's  con 
science  can't  approve.  Mr.  Woods,  though  a  native 
colonist,  is  an  Old  England  parson,  and  he  has  so  many 
popish  ways  about  him,  that  I  am  under  considerable 
concern  of  mind" — concern,  of  itself,  was  not  sufficiently 
emphatic  for  one  of  Joel's  sensitive  feelings — "  I  am 
under  considerable  concern  of  mind  about  the  children. 
They  sit  under  no  other  preaching;  and,  though  Lyddy 
and  I  do  all  we  can  to  gainsay  the  sermons,  as  soon  as 
meetin'  is  out,  some  of  it  will  stick.  You  may  worry  the 
best  Christian  into  idolatry  and  unbelief,  by  parseverance 
and  falsehood.  Now  that  things  look  so  serious,  too,  in 
the  colonies,  we  ought  to  be  most  careful." 

Jamie  did  not  clearly  understand  the  application  of  the 
present  state  of  the  colonies,  nor  had  he  quite  made  up  his 
mind,  touching  the  merits  of  the  quarrel  between  parlia 
ment  and  the  Americans.  As  between  the  Stuarts  and  the 
House  of  Hanover,  he  was  for  the  former,  and  that  mainly 
because  he  thought  them  Scotch,  and  it  was  surely  a  good 
thing  for  a  Scotchman  to  govern  England ;  but,  as  between 
the  Old  countries  and  the  New,  he  was  rather  inclined  to 
think  the  rights  of  the  first  ought  to  predominate  ;  there  be 
ing  something  opposed  to  natural  order,  agreeably  to  his 
notions,  in  permitting  the  reverse  of  this  doctrine  to  prevail. 
Asforpresbyterianism, however, evenin  the  mitigated  form 
of  New  England  church  government,  he  deemed  it  to  be  so 


TUB      HUTTED     KNOLL.  125 

much  tatter  than  episcopacy,  that  he  would  have  taken  up 
arms,  <>M  as  lie  was,  for  the  party  that  it  could  be  made  to 
appear  was  lighting  to  uphold  the  last.  \\  e  have  no  wish 
t<>  mislead  the  reader.  Neither  of  the  persons  mentioned, 
Mike  included,  actually  k/uw  anything  of  the  points  in  dis 
pute  between  the  di  lib  rent  sects,  or  churches,  mentioned ; 
but  only  fancied  themselves  in  possession  of  the  doctrines, 
traditions,  and  authorities  connected  with  the  subject.  These 
lanries,  h<>\v<-ver,  served  to  keep  alive  a  discussion  that  soon 
had  many  listeners;  and  never  before,  since  his  first  minis 
tration  in  the  valley,  did  Mr.  Woods  meet  as  disaffected  a 
congregation,  as  on  this  day. 

The  church  of  the  Hutted  Knoll,  or,  as  the  clergyman 
more  modestly  termed  it,  the  chapel,  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  meadows,  on  a  very  low  swell  of  their  surface,  where  a 
bit  of  solid  dry  ground  had  been  discovered,  fit  for  such  a 
purpose.  The  principal  object  had  been  to  make  it  central  ; 
though  some  attention  had  been  paid  also  to  the  picturesque. 
It  was  well  shaded  with  young  elms,  just  then  opening  into 
leaf;  and  about  a  dozen  graves,  principally  of  very  young 
children,  were  memorials  of  the  mortality  of  the  settlement. 
The  building  was  of  stone,  the  work  of  Jamie  Allen's  own 
hands,  but  small,  square,  with  a  pointed  roof,  and  totally 
without  tower,  or  belfry.  The  interior  was  of  unpainted 
cherry,  and  through  a  want  of  skill  in  the  mechanics,  had 
a  cold  and  raw  look,  little  suited  to  the  objects  of  the  struc 
ture.  Still,  the  small  altar,  the  desk  and  the  pulpit,  and  the 
large,  square,  curtained  pew  of  the  captain,  the  only  one  the 
house  contained,  were  all  well  ornamented  with  hangings, 
or  cloth,  and  gave  the  place  somewhat  of  an  air  of  clerical 
comfort  and  propriety.  The  rest  of  the  congregation  sat  on 
benches,  with  kneeling-boards  before  them.  The  walls  were 
plastered,  and,  a  proof  that  parsimony  had  no  conn 
with  the  simple  character  of  the  building,  and  a  thing  almost 
as  unusual  in  America  at  that  period  as  it  is  to-day  in  parts 
of  Italy,  the  rhapel  was  entirely  finished. 

It  has  boon  said  that  the  morning  of  the  particular  Sab 
bath  at  which  we  have  now  arrived,  was  mild  and  balmy. 
The  sun  of  the  forty-third  decree  of  latitude  poured  out  its 
genial  rays  upon  the  valley,  ^ildin^  the  tender  leaves  of  the 
surrounding  forest  with  such  touches  of  light  as  are  best 
11* 


126  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

known  to  the  painters  of  Italy.  The  fineness  of  the  weather 
brought  nearly  all  the  working  people  of  the  settlement  to 
the  chapel  quite  an  hour  before  the  ringing  of  its  little  bell, 
enabling  the  men  to  compare  opinions  afresh,  on  the  subject 
of  the  political  troubles  of  the  times,  and  the  women  to 
gossip  about  their  children. 

On  all  such  occasions,  Joel  was  a  principal  spokesman, 
nature  having  created  him  for  a  demagogue,  in  a  small  way; 
an  office  for  which  education  had  in  no  degree  unfitted  him. 
As  had  been  usual  with  him,  of  late,  he  turned  the  discourse 
on  the  importance  of  having  correct  information  of  what 
was  going  on,  in  the  inhabited  parts  of  the  country,  and  of 
the  expediency  of  sending  some  trustworthy  person  on  such 
an  errand.  He  had  frequently  intimated  his  own  readiness 
to  go,  if  his  neighbours  wished  it. 

"  We're  all  in  the  dark  here,"  he  remarked,  "  and  might 
stay  so  to  the  end  of  time,  without  some  one  to  be  relied  on, 
to  tell  us  the  news.  Major  Willoughby  is  a  fine  man" — 
Joel  meant  morally,  not  physically — "  but  he  's  a  king's 
officer,  and  nat'rally  feels  inclined  to  make  the  best  of  things 
for  the  rig'lars.  The  captain,  too,  was  once  a  soldier,  him 
self,  and  his  feelin's  turn,  as  it  might  be,  unav'idably,  to  the 
side  he  has  been  most  used  to.  We  are  like  people  on  a 
desart  island,  out  here  in  the  wilderness — and  if  ships  won't 
arrive  to  tell  us  how  matters  come  on,  we  must  send  one 
out  to  1'arn  it  for  us.  I  'm  the  last  man  at  the  Dam" — so 
the  oi  polloi  called  the  valley — "  to  say  anything  hard  of 
either  the  captain  or  his  son ;  but  one  is  English  born,  and 
the  other  is  English  bred  ;  and  each  will  make  a  difference 
in  a  man's  feelin's." 

To  this  proposition  the  miller,  in  particular,  assented ; 
and,  for  the  twentieth  time,  he  made  some  suggestion  about 
the  propriety  of  Joel's  going  himself,  in  order  to  ascertain 
how  the  land  lay. 

"  You  can  be  back  by  hoeing,"  he  added,  "  and  have 
plenty  of  time  to  go  as  far  as  Boston,  should  you  wish  to." 

Now,  while  the  great  events  were  in  progress,  which  led 
to  the  subversion  of  British  power  in  America,  an  under 
current  of  feeling,  if  not  of  incidents,  was  running  in  this 
valley,  which  threatened  to  wash  away  the  foundations  of 
the  captain's  authority.  Joel  and  the  miller,  if  not  down- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  127 

right  conspirators,  had  hopes,  calculations,  and  even  projects 
of  their  own,  that  never  would  have  originated  with  men  of 
the  same  class,  in  another  state  of  society;  or,  it  might 
almost  be  said,  in  another  part  of  the  world.  The  sagacity 
of  the  overseer  had  long  enabled  him  to  foresee  that  the 
pf  the  present  troubles  would  be  insurrection;  and  a 
sort  of  instinct  which  some  men  possess  for  the  strongest 
side,  had  pointed  out  to  him  the  importance  of  being  a  pa 
triot.  The  captain,  he  little  doubted,  would  take  part  with 
the  crown,  and  then  no  one  knew  what  might  be  the  conse 
quences.  It  is  not  probable  that  Joel's  instinct  for  tho 
strongest  side  predicted  the  precise  confiscations  that  subse 
quently  ensued,  some  of  which  had  all  the  grasping  lawless 
ness  of  a  gross  abuse  of  power;  but  he  could  easily  foresee 
that  if  the  owner  of  the  estate  should  be  driven  off,  the  pro 
perty  and  its  proceeds,  probably  for  a  series  of  years,  would 
be  very  apt  to  fall  under  his  own  control  and  management. 
Many  a  patriot  has  been  made  by  anticipations  less  brilliant 
than  these ;  and  as  Joel  and  the  miller  talked  the  matter 
over  between  them,  they  had  calculated  all  the  possible 
emolument  of  fattening  beeves,  and  packing  pork  for  hostile 
armies,  or  isolated  frontier  posts,  with  a  strong  gusto  for 
the  occupation.  Should  open  war  but  fairly  commence,  and 
could  the  captain  only  be  induced  to  abandon  the  Knoll,  and 
take  refuge  within  a  British  camp,  everything  might  be  mado 
to  go  smoothly,  until  settling  day  should  follow  a  peace.  At 
that  moment,  non  cst  inventus  would  be  a  sufficient  answer 
to  a  demand  for  any  balance. 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  Joel,  in  an  aside  to  the  miller,  "  that 
law  is  as  good  as  done  with  in  the  Bay  colony,  already  ;  and 
you  know  if  the  law  has  run  out  Mere,  it  will  quickly  come 
to  an  end,  here.  York  never  had  much  character  for  law." 

"  That 's  true,  Joel ;  then  you  know  the  captain  himself 
is  the  only  magistrate  hereabout ;  and,  when  he  is  away, 
we  shall  have  to  be  governed  by  a  committee  of  safety,  or 
something  of  that  natur'." 

"  A  committee  of  safety  will  be  the  thin^  !" 

"What  is  a  committee  of  safety,  Joel?"  demanded  the 
miller,  who  had  made  far  less  progress  in  the  arts  of  the 
demagogue  than  his  friend,  and  who,  in  fact,  had  much  less 


128  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

native  fitness  for  the  vocation  ;  "  I  have  heer'n  tell  of  them 
regulations,  but  do  not  rightly  understand  'em,  a'ter  all." 

"  You  know  what  a  committee  is  ?"  asked  Joel,  glancing 
inquiringly  at  his  friend. 

"  I  s'pose  I  do — it  means  men's  takin'  on  themselves  the 
trouble  and  care  of  public  business." 

"  That 's  it — now  a  committee  of  safety  means  a  few  of 
us,  for  instance,  having  the  charge  of  the  affairs  of  this 
settlement,  in  order  to  see  that  no  harm  shall  come  to  any 
thing,  especially  to  the  people." 

"  It  would  be  a  good  thing  to  have  one,  here.  The  car 
penter,  and  you,  and  I  might  be  members,  Joel." 

"We'll  talk  about  it,  another  time.  The  corn  is  just 
planted,  you  know ;  and  it  has  got  to  be  hoed  twice,  and 
topped,  before  it  can  be  gathered.  Let  us  wait  and  see  how 
things  come  on  at  Boston." 

While  this  incipient  plot  was  thus  slowly  coming  to  a 
head,  and  the  congregation  was  gradually  collecting  at  the 
chapel,  a  very  different  scene  was  enacting  in  the  Hut. 
Breakfast  was  no  sooner  through,  than  Mrs.  Willoughby 
retired  to  her  own  sitting-room,  whither  her  son  was  shortly 
summoned  to  join  her.  Expecting  some  of  the  inquiries 
which  maternal  affection  might  prompt,  the  major  proceeded 
to  the  place  named  with  alacrity  ;  but,  on  entering  the  room, 
to  his  great  surprise  he  found  Maud  with  his  mother.  The 
latter  seemed  grave  and  concerned,  while  the  former  was 
not  entirely  free  from  alarm.  The  young  man  glanced  in 
quiringly  at  the  young  lady,  and  he  fancied  he  saw  tears 
struggling  to  break  out  of  her  eyes. 

"  Come  hither,  Robert" — said  Mrs.  Willoughby,  pointing 
to  a  chair  at  her  side — with  a  gravity  that  struck  her  son  as 
unusual — "  I  have  brought  you  here  to  listen  to  one  of  the 
old-fashioned  lectures,  of  which  you  got  so  many  when  a 
boy." 

"  Your  advice,  my  dear  mother — or  even  your  reproofs — 
would  be  listened  to  with  far  more  reverence  and  respect, 
now,  than  I  fear  they  were  then,"  returned  the  major,  seat 
ing  himself  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Willoughby,  and  taking  one 
of  her  hands,  affectionately,  in  both  his  own.  "  It  is  only 
in  after-life  that  we  learn  to  appreciate  the  tenderness  and 
care  of  such  a  parent  as  you  have  been ;  though  what  I 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  129 

lone  lately,  to  bring  me  in  danger  of  the  guard-house, 
1  cannot  imagine.  Stirelv  yon  eanirot  blame  me  lor  adhering 
to  the  crown,  at  a  nnnm-nt  like  this  !" 

44 1  shall  not  invni-iv  with  \c>ur  conscience  in  this  matter, 
Robert;  and  my  own  ((.•clings,  American  as  I  am  by  birth 
nnd  family,  rather  incline  me  to  think  as  you  think.  I  have 
wished  to  see  you,  my  son,  on  a  different  business." 

44  Do  not  keep  me  in  suspense,  mother ;  I  feel  like  a  pri 
soner  who  is  waiting  to  hear  his  charges  read.  What  have 
Ido. 

'•  Nay,  it  is  rather  for  you  to  tell  me  what  you  have  done. 
You  cannot  have  forgotten,  Hubert,  lu>w  very  anxious  I  have 
been  to  awaken  and  keep  alive  tamilv  affection,  among  my 
children;  how  very  important  both  your  father  and  I  have: 
always  deemed  it ;  and  how  strongly  we  have  endeavoured 
to  impress  this  importance  on  all  your  minds.  The  tie  of 
family,  and  the  love  it  ought  to  produce,  is  one  of  the  sweetest 
of  all  our  earthly  duties.  Perhaps  we  old  people  see  its  value 
more  than  you  young  ;  but,  to  us,  the  weakening  of  it  seems 
like  a  disaster  only  a  little  less  to  be  deplored  than  death." 

"  Dearest — dearest  mother  !  What  can  you — what  do 
you  mean  ? — What  can  / — what  can  Maud  have  to  do  with 
this?" 

44  Do  not  your  consciences  tell  you,  both?  Has  there  not 
been  some  misunderstanding — perhaps  a  quarrel — certainly 
a  coldness  between  you  ?  A  mother  has  a  quick  and  a  jea 
lous  eye ;  and  I  have  seen,  for  some  time,  that  there  is  not 
the  old  confidence,  the  free  natural  manner,  in  either  of 
you,  that  there  used  to  be,  and  which  always  gave  your 
father  and  me  so  much  genuine  happiness.  Speak,  then, 
and  let  me  make  peace  between  you." 

Robert  WiUoughby  would  not  have  looked  at  Maud,  at 
that  moment,  to  have  been  given  a  regiment;  as  f>r  Maud, 
herself,  she  was  utterly  incapable  of  raising  her  eyes  from 
the  floor.  The  former  coloured  to  the  temples,  a  proof  of 
consciousness,  his  mother  fancied  ;  while  the  latter's  face 
resembled  ivory,  as  much  as  flesh  and  bl«»>d. 

"If  you  think,  Robert,"  continued  Mrs.  Willouiihhy, 
44  that  M.-in.l  has  forgotten  you,  or  shown  pique  for  any  little 
former  misunderstanding,  during  your  last  absence,  you  do 
her  injustice.  No  one  has  done  as  much  for  you,  in  tho 


130  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

way  of  memorial ;  that  beautiful  sash  being  all  her  own 
work,  and  made  of  materials  purchased  with  her  own  pocket- 
money.  Maud  loves  you  truly,  too ;  for,  whatever  may  be 
the  airs  she  gives  herself,  while  you  are  together,  when 
absent,  no  one  seems  to  care  more  for  your  wishes  and 
happiness,  than  that  very  wilful  and  capricious  girl." 

"  Mother  ! — mother  !"  murmured  Maud,  burying  her  face 
in  both  her  hands. 

Mrs.  Willoughby  was  woman  in  all  her  feelings,  habits 
and  nature.  No  one  would  have  been  more  keenly  alive 
to  the  peculiar  sensibilities  of  her  sex,  under  ordinary  cir 
cumstances,  than  herself;  but  she  was  now  acting  and 
thinking  altogether  in  her  character  of  a  mother ;  and  so 
long  and  intimately  had  she  regarded  the  two  beings  before 
her,  in  that  common  and  sacred  light,  that  it  would  have 
been  like  the  dawn  of  a  new  existence  for  her,  just  then,  to 
look  upon  them  as  not  really  akin  to  each  other. 

"  I  shall  not,  nor  can  I  treat  either  of  you  as  a  child," 
she  continued,  "  and  must  therefore  appeal  only  to  your 
own  good  sense,  to  make  a  peace.  I  know  it  can  be  nothing 
serious ;  but,  it  is  painful  to  me  to  see  even  an  affected  cola- 
ness  among  my  children.  Think,  Maud,  that  we  are  on  the 
point  of  a  war,  and  how  bitterly  you  would  regret  it,  should 
any  accident  befall  your  brother,  and  your  memory  not  be 
able  to  recall  the  time  passed  among  us,  in  his  last  visit,  with 
entire  satisfaction." 

The  mother's  voice  trembled ;  but  tears  no  longer  strug 
gled  about  the  eyelids  of  Maud.  Her  face  was  pale  as 
death,  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  ordinary  fountain  of  sorrow 
were  dried  up. 

"  Dear  Bob,  this  is  too  much  !"  she  said  eagerly,  though 
in  husky  tones.  "  Here  is  my  hand — nay,  here  are  both. 
Mother  must  not  think  this  cruel  charge  is — can  be  true." 

The  major  arose,  approached  his  sister,  and  impressed  a 
kiss  on  her  cold  cheek.  Mrs.  Willoughby  smiled  at  these 
tokens  of  amity,  and  the  conversation  continued  in  a  less 
earnest  manner. 

"  This  is  right,  my  children,"  said  the  single-hearted 
Mrs.  Willoughby,  whose  sensitive  maternal  love  saw  no 
thing  but  the  dreaded  consequences  of  weakened  domestic 
affections ;  "  and  I  shall  be  all  the  happier  for  having  wit- 


T11E     HUTTED     KNOLL.  131 

ncsscd  it.  Young  soldiers,  Maud,  who  arc  sent  early  from 
their  h«>mes,  have  tuo  many  induceraenta  to  forget  them  and 
those  they  contain  ;  and  we  women  are  so  dependent  on  tho 
f  our  male  friends,  that  it  is^wisdom  in  us  to  keep 
alive  all  the  earlier  ties  as  long  and  as  much  as  possible." 

"I  am  sure,  dearest  mother,"  murmured  Maud,  though 
in  a  voice  that  was  scarcely  audible,  u  /  shall  be  the  last  to 
wish  to  weaken  this  family  tie.  No  one  can  feel  a  warmer — 
a  more  proper — a  more  sisterly  affection  for  Robert,  than  I 
do — he  was  always  so  kind  to  me  when  a  child — and  so 
ready  to  assist  me — and  so  manly — and  so  everything  that 
he  ought  to  be  —  it  is  surprising  you  should  have  fancied 
there  was  any  coldness  between  us !" 

.Major  Willoughby  even  bent  forward  to  listen,  so  intense 
was  his  curiosity  to  hear  what  Maud  said  ;  a  circumstance 
which,  had  she  seen  it,  would  probably  have  closed  her  lips. 
But  her  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  floor,  her  cheeks  were 
bloodless,  and  her  voice  so  low,  that  nothing  but  the  breath 
less  stillness  he  observed,  would  have  allowed  the  young 
man  to  hear  it,  where  he  sat. 

"  You  forget,  mother" — rejoined  the  major,  satisfied  that 
the  last  murmur  had  died  on  his  ears — "  that  Maud  will 
probably  be  transplanted  into  another  family,  one  of  these 
days,  where  we,  who  know  her  so  well,  and  have  reason  to 
love  her  so  much,  can  only  foresee  that  she  will  form  new, 
and  even  stronger  ties  than  any  that  accident  may  have 
formed  for  her  here." 

"  Never — never" — exclaimed  Maud,  fervently — "  I  can 
never  love  any  as  well  as  I  love  those  who  are  in  this 
house." 

The  relief  she  wanted  slopped  her  voice,  and,  bursting 
into  tears,  she  threw  herself  into  Mrs.  Willoughby's  arms, 
and  sobbed  like  a  child.  The  mother  now  motioned  to  her 
son  to  quit  the  room,  while  she  remained  herself  to  soothe 
the  weeping  girl,  as  she  so  often  had  done  before,  when 
overcome  by  her  infantile,  or  youthful  griefs.  Throughout 
this  interview,  habit  and  single-heartedness  so  exercised 
their  influence,  that  the  excellent  matron  did  not,  in  the  most 
remote  manner,  recollect  that  her  son  and  Maud  were  not 
natural  relatives.  Accustomed  herself  to  see  the  latter  every 
day,  and  to  think  of  her,  as  she  had  from  the  moment  when 


132  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

she  was  placed  in  her  arms,  an  infant  of  a  few  weeks  old, 
the  effect  that  separation  might  produce  on  others,  never 
presented  itself  to  her  mind.  Major  Willoughby,  a  boy  of 
eight  when  Maud  was  received  in  the  family,  had  known 
from  the  first  her  precise  position ;  and  it  was  perhaps  mor 
ally  impossible  that  he  should  not  recall  the  circumstance  in 
their  subsequent  intercourse;  more  especially  as  school, 
college,  and  the  army,  had  given  him  so  much  leisure  to 
reflect  on  such  things,  apart  from  the  influence  of  family 
habits  ;  while  it  was  to  be  expected  that  a  consequence  of  his 
own  peculiar  mode  of  thinking  on  this  subject,  would  be  to 
produce  something  like  a  sympathetic  sentiment  in  the  bosom 
of  Maud.  Until  within  the  last  few  years,  however,  she  had 
been  so  much  of  a  child  herself,  and  had  been  treated  so 
much  like  a  child  by  the  young  soldier,  that  it  was  only 
through  a  change  in  him,  that  was  perceptible  only  to  her 
self,  and  which  occurred  when  he  first  met  her  grown  into 
womanhood,  that  she  alone  admitted  any  feelings  that  were 
not  strictly  to  be  referred  to  sisterly  regard.  All  this,  never 
theless,  was  a  profound  mystery  to  every  member  of  the 
family,  but  the  two  who  were  its  subjects  ;  no  other  thoughts 
than  the  simplest  and  most  obvious,  ever  suggesting  them 
selves  to  the  minds  of  the  others. 

In  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Willoughby  had  quieted  all  Maud's 
present  troubles,  and  the  whole  family  left  the  house  to  repair 
to  the  chapel.  Michael,  though  he  had  no  great  reverence 
for  Mr.  Wood's  ministrations,  had  constituted  himself  sexton, 
an  office  which  had  devolved  on  him  in  consequence  of  his 
skill  with  the  spade.  Once  initiated  into  one  branch  of  this 
duty,  he  had  insisted  on  performing  all  the  others ;  and  it 
was  sometimes  a  curious  spectacle  to  see  the  honest  fellow, 
busy  about  the  interior  of  the  building,  during  service,  liter 
ally  stopping  one  of  his  ears  with  a  thumb,  with  a  view, 
while  he  acquitted  himself  of  what  he  conceived  to  be  tem 
poral  obligations,  to  exclude  as  much  heresy  as  possible, 
One  of  his  rules  was  to  refuse  to  commence  tolling  the  bell, 
until  he  saw  Mrs.  Willoughby  and  her  daughter,  within  a 
reasonable  distance  of  the  place  of  worship  ;  a  rule  that  had 
brought  about  more  than  one  lively  discussion  between  him 
self  and  the  levelling-minded,  if  not  heavenly-minded  Joel 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  133 

Strides.  On  the  present  occasion,  this  simple  process  did 
not  pass  altogether  without  a  dispute 

'•  ('"in'-,  .Mike;  it's  half-past  ten;  the  people  have  been 
waiting  about  the  merlin'  'us,  some  time;  you  should  open 
the  doors,  and  toll  the  bell.  People  can't  wait,  for  ever, 
for  anybody  ;  not  even  for  your  church." 

"  Then  let  'em  just  go  home,  ag'in,  and  come  when 
they're  called.  !>•  cause,  the  ould  women,  and  the  young 
women,  and  the  childcr,  and  the  likes  o'  them,  wishes  to 
scandalize  their  fellow  cr'atures,  Christians  I  will  not  call 
'em,  let  'cm  mate  in  the  mill,  or  the  school-house,  and  not 
come  forenent  a  church  on  sich  a  business  as  that.  Is  it 
toll  the  bell,  will  I,  afore  the  Missus  is  in  sight? — No — not 
for  a  whole  gineration  of  ye,  Joel ;  and  every  one  o'  them, 
too,  a  much  likelier  man  than  ye  bees  yerself." 

"  Religion  is  no  respecter  of  persons" — returned  the  phi 
losophical  Joel.  "  Them  that  likes  masters  and  mistresses 
may  have  them,  for  all  me ;  but  it  riles  me  to  meet  with 
meanness." 

"  It  does !"  cried  Mike,  looking  up  at  his  companion,  with 
a  very  startling  expression  of  wonder.  "  If  that  be  true,  ye 
must  be  in  a  mighty  throubled  state,  most  of  the  live-long 
day,  ye  must !" 

"  I  tell  you,  Michael  O'Hearn,  religion  is  no  respecter  of 
persons.  The  Lord  cares  jist  as  much  for  me,  as  he  does 
for  captain  Willoughby,  or  his  wife,  or  his  son,  or  his  dar 
ters,  or  anything  that  is  his." 

"  Divil  burn  me,  now,  Joel,  if  I  believe  that!"  again  cried 
Mike,  in  his  dogmatic  manner.  "  Them  that  understands 
knows  the  difference  between  mankind,  and  I  'm  sure  it  can 
be  no  great  sacrct  to  the  I/ord,  when  it  is  so  well  known  to 
a  poor  fellow  like  myself.  There 's  a  plenthy  of  fellow- 
cr'alures  that  has  a  mighty  good  notion  of  their  own  excel 
lence,  but  when  it  comes  to  r'ason  and  thruth,  it's  no  very 
great  figure  ye  all  make,  in  proving  what  ye  say.  This 
chapel  is  the  master's,  if  chapel  the  heretical  box  cnn  bo 
called,  and  yonder  bell  was  bought  wid  his  money;  and  the 
rope  is  his ;  and  the  hands  that  mane  to  pull  it,  is  his  ;  and 
so  there's  little  use  in  talking  ag'in  rocks,  and  ag'in  minds 
that 's  made  up  even  harder  than  rocks,  and  to  spare." 

This  settled  the  matter.     The  bell  was  not  tolled  until 

VOL.  I.  — 12 


134  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Mrs.  Willoughby,  and  her  daughters,  had  got  fairly  through 
the  still  unprotected  gateway  of  the  stockade,  although  the 
recent  discussion  of  political  questions  had  so  far  substituted 
discontent  for  subordination  in  the  settlement,  that  more 
than  half  of  those  who  were  of  New  England  descent,  had 
openly  expressed  their  dissatisfaction  at  the  delay.  Mike, 
however,  was  as  unmoved  as  the  little  chapel  itself,  refusing 
to  open  the  door  until  the  proper  moment  had  arrived,  ac 
cording  to  his  own  notion  of  the  fitness  of  things.  He  then 
proceeded  to  the  elm,  against  which  the  little  bell  was  hung, 
and  commenced  tolling  it  with  as  much  seriousness  as  if  the 
conveyer  of  sounds  had  been  duly  consecrated. 

When  the  family  from  the  Hut  entered  the  chapel,  all  the 
rest  of  the  congregation  were  in  their  customary  seats.  This 
arrival,  however,  added  materially  to  the  audience,  Great 
Smash  and  Little  Smash,  the  two  Plinys,  and  some  five  or 
six  coloured  children,  between  the  ages  of  six  and  twelve, 
following  in  the  train  of  their  master.  For  the  blacks,  a 
small  gallery  had  been  built,  where  they  could  sit  apart,  a 
proscribed,  if  not  a  persecuted  race.  Little  did  the  Plinys 
or  the  Smashes,  notwithstanding,  think  of  this.  Habit  had 
rendered  their  situation  more  than  tolerable,  for  it  had 
created  notions  and  usages  that  would  have  rendered  them 
uncomfortable,  in  closer  contact  with  the  whites.  In  that 
day,  the  two  colours  never  ate  together,  by  any  accident ; 
the  eastern  castes  being  scarcely  more  rigid  in  the  observ 
ance  of  their  rules,  than  the  people  of  America  were  on  this 
great  point.  The  men  who  would  toil  together,  joke  toge 
ther,  and  pass  their  days  in  familiar  intercourse,  would  not 
sit  down  at  the  same  board.  There  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of 
contamination,  according  to  the  opinions  of  one  of  these 
castes,  in  breaking  bread  with  the  other.  This  prejudice  often 
gave  rise  to  singular  scenes,  more  especially  in  the  house 
holds  of  those  who  habitually  laboured  in  company  with 
their  slaves.  In  such  families,  it  not  unfrequently  happened 
that  a  black  led  the  councils  of  the  farm.  He  might  be  seen 
seated  by  the  fire,  uttering  his  opinions  dogmatically,  rea 
soning  warmly  against  his  own  master,  and  dealing  out  his 
wisdom  ex  cathedra,  even  while  he  waited,  with  patient 
humility,  when  he  might  approach,  and  satisfy  his  hunger, 
after  all  of  the  other  colour  had  quitted  the  table. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  135 

Mr.  Woods  was  not  fortunate  in  the  selection  of  his  sub< 
j'-ct,  on  the  occasion  of  which  we  are  writing.  There  had 
been  so  much  personal  activity,  and  so  much  political  dis 
cussion  during  the  past  week,  as  to  prevent  him  from  writing 
a  new  sermon,  and  of  course  he  was  compelled  to  fall  back 
on  the  o  her  end  of  the  barrel.  Tin;  recent  arguments  in 
clined  him  to  maintain  his  own  opinions,  and  he  chose  a 
discourse  that  he  had  delivered  to  the  garrison  of  which  he 
had  last  been  chaplain.  To  this  choice  he  had  been  enticed 
by  the  text,  which  was,  "  Render  unto  Cccsar  the  things 
that  are  Ciesar's,"  a  mandate  that  would  be  far  more  pala 
table  to  an  audience  composed  of  royal  troops,  than  to  one 
which  had  become  a  good  deal  disaffected  by  the  ar: 
arguments  of  Joel  Strides  and  the  miller.  Still,  as  the  ser 
mon  contained  a  proper  amount  of  theological  truisms,  and 
had  a  sufficiency  of  general  orthodoxy  to  cover  a  portion 
of  its  political  bearing,  it  gave  far  more  dissatisfaction  to  a 
few  of  the  knowing,  than  to  the  multitude.  To  own  the 
truth,  the  worthy  priest  was  so  much  addicted  to  continuing 
his  regimental  and  garrison  course  of  religious  instruction, 
that  his  ordinary  listeners  would  scarcely  observe  this  ten 
dency  to  loyalty  ;  though  it  was  far  different  with  those  who 
were  eagerly  looking  for  causes  of  suspicion  and  denuncia 
tion,  in  the  higher  quarters. 

"  Well,"  said  Joel,  as  he  and  the  miller,  followed  by  their 
respective  families,  proceeded  towards  the  mill,  where  the 
household  of  the  Strides'  were  to  pass  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  "  well,  this  is  a  bold  sermon  for  a  minister  to  preach 
in  times  like  these  !  I  kind  o'  guess,  if  Mr.  Woods  was  down 
in  the  Bay,  '  render  unto  Cccsar  the  things  that  are  Coesars,' 
wouldn't  be  doctrine  to  be  so  quietly  received  by  every  con 
gregation.  What's  your  notion  about  that,  Miss  Strides?" 

Miss  Strides  thought  exactly  as  her  husband  thought, 
and  the  miller  and  his  wife  were  not  long  in  chiming  in 
with  her,  accordingly.  The  sermon  furnished  material  for 
conversation  throughout  the  remainder  of  the  day,  at  the 
mill,  and  divers  conclusions  were  drawn  from  it,  that  were 
ominous  to  the  preacher's  future  comfort  and  security. 

Nor  did  the  well-meaning  parson  entirely  escape  comment 
in  the  higher  quarters. 

*'  I  wish,  Woods,  you  had  made  choice  of  some  other 


136  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

subject,"  observed  the  captain,  as  he  and  his  friend  walked 
the  lawn  together,  in  waiting  for  a  summons  to  dinner. 
"  In  times  like  these,  one  cannot  be  too  careful  of  the  politi 
cal  notions  he  throws  out;  and  to  own  the  truth  to  you,  I 
am  more  than  half  inclined  to  think  that  Caesar  is  exercising 
quite  as  much  authority,  in  these  colonies,  as  justly  falls  to 
his  share." 

"  Why,  my  dear  captain,  you  have  heard  this  very  ser 
mon  three  or  four  times  already,  and  you  have  more  than 
once  mentioned  it  with  commendation !" 

"Ay,  but  that  was  in  garrison,  where  one  is  obliged  to 
teach  subordination.  I  remember  the  sermon  quite  well, 
and  a  very  good  one  it  was,  twenty  years  since,  when  you 
first  preached  it ;  but — " 

"  I  apprehend,  captain  Willoughby,  that  *  tempora  mu- 
tantur,  et,  nos  mutamus  in  illis.'  That  the  r^andates  and 
maxims  of  the  Saviour  are  far  beyond  the  mutations  and 
erring  passions  of  mortality.  His  sayings  are  intended  for 
all  times." 

"  Certainly,  as  respects  their  general  principles  and  go 
verning  truths.  But  no  text  is  to  be  interpreted  without 
some  reference  to  circumstances.  All  I  mean  is,  that  the 
preaching  which  might  be  very  suitable  to  a  battalion  of 
His  Majesty's  Fortieth  might  be  very  unsuitable  for  the 
labourers  of  the  Hutted  Knoll ;  more  especially  so  soon 
after  what  I  find  is  called  the  Battle  of  Lexington." 

The  summons  to  dinner  cut  short  the  discourse,  and  pro 
bably  prevented  a  long,  warm,  but  friendly  argument. 

That  afternoon  and  evening,  captain  Willoughby  and  his 
son  had  a  private  and  confidential  discourse.  The  former 
advised  the  major  to  rejoin  his  regiment  without  delay, 
unless  he  were  prepared  to  throw  up  his  commission  and 
take  sides  with  the  colonists,  altogether.  To  this  the  young 
soldier  would  not  listen,  returning  to  the  charge,  in  the  hope 
of  rekindling  the  dormant  flame  of  his  father's  loyalty. 

The  reader  is  not  to  suppose  that  captain  Willoughby's 
own  mind  was  absolutely  made  up  to  fly  into  open  rebellion. 
Far  from  it.  He  had  his  doubts  and  misgivings  on  the 
subjects  of  both  principles  and  prudence,  but  he  inclined 
strongly  to  the  equity  of  the  demands  of  the  Americans. 
Independence,  or  separation,  if  thought  of  at  all  in  1775, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  137 

entered  into  the  projects  of  but  very  few ;  the  warmest  wish 
of  the  most  ardent  of  the  whigs  of  the  colonies  being  directed 
toward  compromise,  and  a  distinct  recognition  of  their  poli 
tical  franchises.  The  events  that  followed  so  thickly  were 
merely  the  consequences  of  causes  which,  once  set  in- mo 
tion,  soon  attained  an  impetus  tint  defied  ordinary  human 
control.  It  was  doubtless  one  of  the  leading  incidents  of 
the  great  and  mysterious  scheme  of  Divine  Providence  for 
the  government  of  the  future  destinies  of  man,  that  political 
separation  should  commence,  in  this  hemisphere,  at  that 
particular  juncture,  to  be  carried  out,  ere  the  end  of  a  cen 
tury,  to  its  final  and  natural  conclusion. 

But  the  present  interview  was  less  to  debate  the  merits 
of  any  disputed  question,  than  to  consult  on  the  means  of 
future  intercourse,  and  to  determine  on  what  was  best  to  be 
done  at  the  present  moment.  After  discussing  the  matter, 
pro  and  con,  it  was  decided  that  the  major  should  quit  the 
Knoll  the  next  day,  and  return  to  Boston,  avoiding  Albany 
and  those  points  of  the  country  in  which  he  would  be  most 
exposed  to  detection.  So  many  persons  were  joining  the 
American  forces  that  were  collecting  about  the  besieged 
town,  that  his  journeying  on  the  proper  road  would  excite 
no  suspicion;  and  once  in  the  American  camp,  nothing 
would  be  easier  than  to  find  his  way  into  the  peninsula.  AH 
this  young  Willoughby  felt  no  difficulty  in  being  able  to 
accomplish,  provided  he  could  get  into  the  settlements  with 
out  being  followed  by  information  of  his  real  character. 
The  period  of  spies,  and  of  the  severe  exercise  of  martial  - 
law,  was  not  yet  reached ;  and  all  that  was  apprehended 
was  detention.  Of  the  last,  however,  there  was  great  dan 
ger  ;  positive  certainty,  indeed,  in  the  event  of  discovery  ; 
and  major  Willoughby  had  gleaned  enough  during  his  visit, 
to  feel  some  apprehensions  of  being  betrayed.  He  regretted 
having  brought  his  servant  with  him ;  for  the  man  was  a 
European,  and  by  his  dulness  and  speech  might  easily  get 
them  both  into  difficulties.  So  serious,  indeed,  was  this  last 
danger  deemed  by  the  father,  that  he  insisted  on  Robert's 
r.'artin^  without  the  man,  leaving  the  last  to  follow,  on  the 
first  suitable  occasion. 

As  soon  as  this  point  was  settled,  there  arose  the  question 
of  the  proper  guide.  Although  he  distrusted  the  Tuscarora, 
12* 


138  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

captain  Willoughby,  after  much  reflection,  came  to  the 
opinion  that  it  would  be  safer  to  make  an  ally  of  him,  than 
to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  being  employed  by  the  other 
side.  Nick  was  sent  for,  and  questioned.  He  promised  to 
take  the  major  to  the  Hudson,  at  a  point  between  Lunenburg 
and  Kinderhook,  where  he  would  be  likely  to  cross  the  river 
without  awakening  suspicion  ;  his  own  reward  to  depend  on 
his  coming  back  to  the  Hutted  Knoll  with  a  letter  from  the 
major,  authorizing  the  father  to  pay  him  for  his  service?. 
This  plan,  it  was  conceived,  would  keep  Nick  true  to  his 
fait-h,  for  the  time  being,  at  least. 

Many  other  points  were  discussed  between  the  father  and 
son,  the  latter  promising  if  anything  of  importance  occurred, 
to  find  the  means  of  communicating  it  to  his  friends  at  the 
Knoll,  while  Parrel  was  to  follow  his  master,  at  the  end  of 
six  weeks  or  two  months,  with  letters  from  the  family. 
Many  of  the  captain's  old  army-friends  were  now  in  situa 
tions  of  authority  and  command,  and  he  sent  to  them  mes 
sages  of  prudence,  and  admonitions  to  be  moderate  in  their 
views,  which  subsequent  events  proved  were  little  regarded. 
To  general  Gage  he  even  wrote,  using  the  precaution  not  to 
sign  the  letter,  though  its  sentiments  were  so  much  in  favour 
of  the  colonies,  that  had  it  been  intercepted,  it  is  most  pro 
bable  the  Americans  would  have  forwarded  the  missive  to 
its  direction. 

These  matters  arranged,  the  father  and  son  parked  for  the 
night,  some  time  after  the  house-clock  had  struck  the  hour 
of  twelve. 


TUB     HUTTED     KNOLL 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Though  old  in  cunning1,  as  in  years, 
He  is  so  small,  that  like  u  child 
In  f.icc  ;md  lorm,  the  £od  apj>ears, 
And  sportive  like  a  boy,  and  wild  ; 
Lightly  lie  moves  from  place  to  place, 
In  none  at  rest,  in  none  content; 
Delighted  sumo  m-w  toy  to  chase — 
On  childish  purpose  ever  bent. 
Beware  !  to  childhood's  spirits  gay 
Is  added  more  than  childhood's  power; 
And  you  perchance  may  rue  the  hour 
That  saw  you  join  his  seeming  play. 

GRIFFIN. 

THE  intention  of  the  major  to  quit  the  Knoll  that  day, 
was  announced  to  the  family  at  breakfast,  on  the  following 
morning.  His  mother  and  Beulah  heard  this  intelligence, 
with  a  natural  and  affectionate  concern,  that  they  had  no 
scruples  in  avowing;  but  Maud  sccnv-J  to  have  so  schooled 
her  feelings,  that  the  grief  she  really  felt  was  under  a  pru 
dent  control.  To  her,  it  appeared  as  if  her  secret  were 
constantly  on  the  point  of  exposure,  and  she  believed  that 
would  cause  her  instant  death.  To  survive  its  shame  was 
impossible  in  her  eyes,  and  all  the  energies  of  her  nature 
were  aroused,  with  the  determination  of  burying  her  weak 
ness  in  her  own  bosom.  She  had  been  so  near  revealing  it 
to  Beulah,  that  even  now  she  trembled  as  she  thought  of  the 
precipice  over  which  she  had  been  impending,  strengthen 
ing  her  resolution  by  the  recollection  of  the  danger  she  had 
run. 

As  a  matter  of  necessary  caution,  the  intended  movements 
of  the  young  man  were  kept  a  profound  secret  from  all  in 
the  settlement.  Nick  had  disappeared  in  the  course  of  the 
night,  rarrying  with  him  the  major's  pack,  having  repaired 
to  a  designated  point  on  the  stream,  where  he  was  to  be 
joined  by  his  fellow-traveller  at  an  hour  named.  There 
were  several  forest-paths  which  led  to  the  larger  settlements. 


140  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

That  usually  travelled  was  in  the  direction  of  old  Fort  Stan- 
wix,  first  proceeding  north,  and  then  taking  a  south-eastern 
direction,  along  the  shores  of  the  Mohawk.  This  was  the 
route  by  which  the  major  had  come.  Another  struck  the 
Otsego,  and  joined  the  Mohawk  at  the  point  more  than  once 
mentioned  in  our  opening  chapters.  As  these  were  the  two 
ordinary  paths — if  paths  they  could  be  called,  where  few  or 
no  traces  of  footsteps  were  visible — it  was  more  than  pro 
bable  any  plan  to  arrest  the  traveller  would  be  laid  in  re 
ference  to  their  courses.  The  major  had  consequently 
resolved  to  avoid  them  both,  and  to  strike  boldly  into  the 
mountains,  until  he  should  reach  the  Susquehanna,  cross 
that  stream  on  its  flood-wood,  and  finding  one  of  its  tributa 
ries  that  flowed  in  from  the  eastward,  by  following  its  banks 
to  the  high  land,  which  divides  the  waters  of  the  Mohawk 
from  this  latter  river,  place  himself  on  a  route  that  would 
obliquely  traverse  the  water-courses,  which,  in  this  quarter 
of  the  country,  have  all  a  general  north  or  south  direction. 
Avoiding  Schenectady  and  Albany,  he  might  incline  to 
wards  the  old  establishments  of  the  descendants  of  the  emi 
grants  from  the  Palatinate,  on  (he  Schoharie,  and  reach  the 
Hudson  at  a  point  deemed  safe  for  his  purposes,  through 
some  of  the  passes  of  the  mountains  in  their  vicinity.  He 
was  to  travel  in  the  character  of  a  land-owner  who  had 
been  visiting  his  patent,  and  his  father  supplied  him  with  a 
map  and  an  old  field-book,  which  would  serve  to  corroborate 
his  assumed  character,  in  the  event  of  suspicion,  or  arrest. 
Not  much  danger  was  apprehended,  however,  the  quarrel 
being  yet  too  recent  to  admit  of  the  organization  and  distrust 
that  subsequently  produced  so  much  vigilance  and  activity. 

"  You  will  contrive  to  let  us  hear  of  your  safe  arrival  in 
Boston,  Bob,"  observed  the  father,  as  he  sat  stirring  his  tea, 
in  a  thoughtful  way — "  I  hope  to  God  the  matter  will  go  no 
farther,  and  that  our  apprehensions,  after  all,  have  given 
this  dark  appearance  to  what  has  already  happened." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  father*  you  little  know  the  state  of  the 
country,  through  which  I  have  so  lately  travelled  !"  an 
swered  the  major,  shaking  his  head.  "  An  alarm  of  fire, 
in  an  American  town,  would  scarce  create  more  movement, 
and  not  so  much  excitement.  The  colonies  are  alive,  parti 
cularly  those  of  New  England,  and  a  civil  war  is  inevita- 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  141 

ble;  though  I  trust  the  power  of  England  will  render  it 
short." 

"Then,  Robert,  do  not  trust  yourself  among  the  people 
of  New  Kn^l.unr — cried  the  anxious  mother.  *'  Go  rather 
to  New  York,  where  we  have  so  many  friends,  and  so  much 
influence.  It  will  be  far  easier  to  reach  New  York  than  to 
)•'•,•!< •!»  Boston." 

"  That  may  be  true,  mother,  but  it  will  scarcely  be  as 
creditable.  My  regiment  is  in  Boston,  and  its  enemies  are 
before  Boston  ;  an  old  soldier  like  captain  Willoughby  will 
tell  you  that  the  major  is  a  very  necessary  officer  to  a  corps. 
No— no— my  best  course  is  to  fall  into  the  current  of  ad 
venturers  who  are  pushing  towards  Boston,  and  appear  like 
one  of  their  number,  until  I  can  get  an  opportunity  of  steal 
ing  away  from  them,  and  join  my  own  people." 

"  Have  a  care,  Bob,  that  you  do  not  commit  a  military 
crime.  Perhaps  these  provincial  officers  may  take  it  into 
their  heads  to  treat  you  as  a  spy,  should  you  fall  into  their 
hands !" 

"  Little  fear  of  that,  sir;  at  present  it  is  a  sort  of  colonial 
scramble  for  what  they  fancy  liberty.  That  they  will  fight, 
in  their  zeal,  I  know  ;  for  I  have  seen  it;  but  matters  have 
not  at  all  gone  as  far  as  you  appear  to  apprehend.  I  question 
if  thr-y  would  even  stop  Gage,  himself,  from  going  through 
their  camp,  were  he  outside,  and  did  he  express  a  desire  to 
return." 

"  And  yet  you  tell  me,  arms  and  ammunition  are  seized 
all  over  the  land ;  that  several  old  half-pay  officers  of  the 
king  have  been  arrested,  and  put  under  a  sort  of  parole !" 

"  Such  things  were  talked  of,  certainly,  though  I  question 
if  they  have  yet  been  done.  Luckily  for  yourself,  under 
your  present  opinions  at  least,  you  are  not  on  half-pay, 
even." 

"  It  is  fortunate,  Bob,  though  you  mention  it  with  a  smile. 
With  my  present  feelings,  I  should  indeed  be  sorry  to  be  on 
halt-pay,  or  quarter-pay,  were  there  such  a  thing.  I  now 
fcel  myself  my  own  master,  at  liberty  to  follow  the  dictates 
of  my  conscience,  and  the  suggestions  of  my  judgment." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  are  a  little  fortunate,  it  must  be  acknow 
ledged.  I  cannot  see  how  any  man  can  be  at  liberty  to 


142  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

throw  off  the  allegiance  he  owes  his  natural   sovereign. 
What  think  you,  Maud?" 

This  was  said  half  in  bitterness,  half  in  jest,  though  the 
nppeal  at  its  close  was  uttered  in  a  serious  manner,  and  a 
little  anxiously.  Maud  hesitated,  as  if  to  muster  her  thoughts, 
ere  she  replied. 

"  My  feelings  are  against  rebellion,"  she  said,  at  length ; 
"  though  I  fear  my  reason  tells  me  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  a  natural  sovereign.  If  the  parliament  had  not  given  us 
the  present  family,  a  century  since,  by  what  rule  of  nature 
would  it  be  our  princes,  Bob  ?" 

"Ah!  these  are  some  of  the  flights  of  your  rich  imagina- 
tion,  my  dear — Maud ;  it  is  parliament  that  has  made  them 
our  princes,  and  parliament,  at  least,  is  our  legal,  constitu 
tional  master." 

"  That  is  just  the  point  in  dispute.  Parliament  may  be 
the  rightful  governors  of  England,  but  are  they  the  rightful 
governors  of  America  ?" 

"  Enough,"  said  the  captain,  rising  from  table  — "  We 
will  not  discuss  such  a  "question,  just  as  we  are  about  to  se 
parate.  Go,  my  son  ;  a  duty  that  is  to  be  performed,  cannot 
be  done  too  soon.  Your  fowling-piece  and  ammunition  are 
ready  for  you,  and  I  shall  take  care  to  circulate  the  report 
that  you  have  gone  to  pass  an  hour  in  the  woods,  in  search 
of  pigeons.  God  bless  you,  Bob ;  however  we  may  differ 
in  this  matter  —  you  are  my  son  —  my  only  son  —  my  dear 
and  well-beloved  boy  —  God  for  ever  bless  you  !" 

A  profound  stillness  succeeded  this  burst  of  nature,  and 
then  the  young  man  took  his  leave  of  his  mother  and  the 
girls.  Mrs.  Willoughby  kissed  her  child.  She  did  not  even 
weep,  until  she  was  in  her  room ;  then,  indeed,  she  went  to 
her  knees,  her  tears,  and  her  prayers.  Beulah,  all  heart 
and  truth  as  she  was,  wept  freely  on  her  brother's  neck ; 
but  Maud,  though  pale  and  trembling,  received  his  kiss 
without  returning  it ;  though  she  could  not  help  saying  with 
a  meaning  that  the  young  man  had  in  his  mind  all  that  day, 
ay,  and  for  many  succeeding  days — "  be  careful  of  your 
self,  and  run  into  no  unnecessary  dangers ;  God  bless  you, 
dear,  dear  Bob." 

Maud  alone  followed  the  movements  of  the  gentlemen 
with  her  eyes.  The  peculiar  construction  of  the  Hut  pre- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  143 

vented  external  view  from  the  south  windows  ;  but  there  wag 
a  loop  in  a  small  painting-room  of  the  garret  that  was  espe 
cially  under  her  charge.  Thither,  then,  bhe  Hew,  to  ease 
her  nearly  bursting  heart  with  tears,  and  to  watch  the  re 
tiring  footsteps  of  Robert.  She  saw  him,  accompanied  by 
his  father  and  the  chaplain,  stroll  leisurely  down  the  lawn, 
conversing  and  aifecting  an  indifferent  manner,  with  a  wish 
to  conceal  his  intent  to  depart.  The  glass  of  the  loop  was 
open,  to  admit  the  air,  and  Maud  strained  her  sense  of  hear 
ing,  in  the  desire  to  catch,  if  possible,  another  tone  of  his 
voice.  In  this  she  was  unsuccessful ;  though  he  stopped 
and  gazed  back  at  the  Hut,  as  if  to  take  a  parting  look. 
Her  father  and  Mr.  Woods  did  not  turn,  and  Maud  thrust 
her  hand  through  the  opening  and  waved  her  handkerchief. 
"  He  will  think  it  Beulah  or  I,"  she  thought,  "  and  it  may 
prove  a  consolation  to  him  to  know  how  much  we  love  him." 
The  major  saw  the  signal,  and  returned  it.  His  father  un 
expectedly  turned,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  retiring 
hand,  as  it  was  disappearing  within  the  loop.  "  That  is 
our  precious  Maud,"  he  said,  without  other  thought  than  of 
her  sisterly  affection.  "It  is  her  painting-room ;  Beulah's 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  gate-way  ;  but  the  window  does 
not  seem  to  be  open." 

The  major  started,  kissed  his  hand  fervently,  five  or  six 
times,  and  then  he  walked  on.  As  if  to  change  the  conver 
sation,  he  said  hastily,  and  with  a  little  want  of  connection 
with  what  had  just  passed — 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  gate,  sure  enough — have  it  hung,  at  once, 
I  do  entreat  of  you.  I  shall  not  be  easy  until  I  hear  that 
both  the  gates  are  hung — that  in  the  stockade,  and  that  in 
the  house,  itself.v 

"  It  was  my  intention  to  commence  to-day,"  returned  the 
father,  "  but  your  departure  has  prevented  it.  I  will  wait  a 
day  or  two,  to  let  your  mother  and  sisters  tranquillize  their 
minds  a  little,  before  we  besiege  them  with  the  noise  and 
clamour  of  the  workmen." 

"Better  besiege  them  with  that,  my  dear  sir,  than  leave 
them  exposed  to  an  Indian,  or  even  a  rebel  attack." 

The  major  then  went  on  to  give  some  of  his  more  modern 
military  notions,  touching  the  art  of  defence.  As  one  of  the 
old  school,  he  believed  his  father  a  miracle  of  skill ;  but 


144  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

what  young  man,  who  had  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  ten 
or  fifteen  years  of  the  most  recent  training  in  any  branch 
of  knowledge,  ever  believed  the  educations  of  those  who 
went  before  him  beyond  the  attacks  of  criticism.  The  cap 
tain  listened  patiently,  and  with  an  old  man's  tolerance  for 
inexperience,  glad  to  have  any  diversion  to  unhappy 
thoughts. 

All  this  time  Maud  watched  their  movements  from  the 
loop,  with  eyes  streaming  with  tears.  She  saw  Robert  pause, 
and  look  back,  again  and  again  ;  and,  once  more,  she  thrust 
out  the  handkerchief.  It  was  plain,  however,  he  did  not  see 
it ;  for  he  turned  and  proceeded,  without  any  answering 
signal. 

"  He  never  can  know  whether  it  was  Beulah  or  I," 
thought  Maud ;  "  yet,  he  may  fancy  we  are  both  here." 

On  the  rocks,  that  overhung  the  mills,  the  gentlemen 
paused,  and  conversed  for  quite  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  The 
distance  prevented  Maud  from  discerning  their  countenances; 
but  she  could  perceive  the  thoughtful,  and  as  she  fancied 
melancholy,  attitude  of  the  major,  as,  leaning  on  his  fowling- 
piece,  his  iace  was  turned  towards  the  Knoll,  and  his  eyes 
were  really  riveted  on  the  loop.  At  the  end  of  the  time 
mentioned,  the  young  soldier  shook  hands  hastily  and  co 
vertly  with  his  companions,  hurried  towards  the  path,  and 
descended  out  of  sight,  following  the  course  of  the  stream. 
Maud  saw  him  no  more,  though  her  father  and  Mr.  Woods 
stood  on  the  rocks  quite  half  an  hour  longer,  catching  occa 
sional  glimpses  of  his  form,  as  it  came  out  of  the  shadows 
of  the  forest,  into  the  open  space  of  the  little  river;  and,  in 
deed,  until  the  major  was  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
spot  where  he  was  to  meet  the  Indian.  Then  they  heard 
the  reports  of  both  barrels  of  his  fowling-piece,  fired  in  quick 
succession,  the  signals  that  he  had  joined  his  guide.  This 
welcome  news  received,  the  two  gentlemen  returned  slowly 
towards  the  house. 

Such  was  the  commencement  of  a  day,  which,  while  it 
brought  forth  nothing  alarming  to  the  family  of  the  Hutted 
Knoll,  was  still  pregnant  with  important  consequences. 
Major  Willoughby  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  his  father 
about  ten  in  the  morning ;  and  before  twelve,  the  settlement 
was  alive  with  the  rumours  of  a  fresh  arrival.  Joel  knew 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  145 

not  whether  to  rejoice  or  to  despair,  as  he  saw  a  party  of 
eight  or  ten  armed  men  rising  above  the  rock,  and  holding 
their  course  across  the  Hats  towards  the  house.  He  enter 
tained  no  doubt  of  its  being  a  party  sent  by  the  provincial 
authorities  to  arrest  the  captain,  and  he  foresaw  the  proba 
bility  of  another's  being  put  into  the  lucrative  station  of 
receiver  of  the  estate,  during  the  struggle  which  was  in 
perspective.  It  is  surprising  how  many,  and  sometimes  how 
pure  patriots  are  produced  by  just  such  hopes  as  those  of 
Joel's.  At  this  day,  there  is  scarce  an  instance  of  a  confis 
cated  estate,  during  the  American  revolution,  connected 
with  which  racy  traditions  are  not  to  be  found,  that  tell  of 
treachery  very  similar  to  this  contemplated  by  the  overseer; 
in  some  instances  of  treachery  effected  by  means  of  kins 
men  and  false  friends. 

Joel  had  actually  got  on  his  Sunday  coat,  and  was  making 
his  way  towards  the  Knoll,  in  order  to  be  present,  at  least, 
at  the  anticipated  scene,  when,  to  his  amazement,  and  some 
what  to  his  disappointment,  he  saw  the  captain  and  chaplain 
moving  down  the  lawn,  in  a  manner  to  show  that  these  un 
expected  arrivals  brought  not  unwelcome  guests.  This 
caused  him  to  pause ;  and  when  he  perceived  that  the  only 
two  among  the  strangers  who  had  the  air  of  gentlemen, 
were  met  with  cordial  shakes  of  the  hand,  he  turned  back 
towards  his  own  tenement,  a  half-dissatisfied,  and  yet  half- 
contented  man. 

The  visit  which  the  captain  had  come  out  to  receive,  in 
stead  of  producing  any  uneasiness  in  his  family,  was,  in 
truth,  highly  agreeable,  and  very  opportune.  It  was  Evert 
Beekman,  with  an  old  friend,  attended  by  a  party  of  chain- 
bearers,  hunters,  &c.,  on  his  way  from  the  "Patent"  he 
owned  in  the  neighbourhood  —  that  is  to  say,  within  fifty 
miles — and  halting  at  the  Hutted  Knoll,  under  the  courteous 
pretence  of  paying  his  respects  to  the  family,  but,  in  reality, 
to  bring  the  suit  he  had  now  been  making  to  Beufah  for 
quite  a  twelvemonth,  to  a  successful  termination. 

The  attachment  between  Evert  Beekman  and  Beulah 
Willoughby  was  of  a  character  so  simple,  so  sincere,  and 
so  natural,  as  scarce  to  furnish  materials  for  a  brief  episode. 
The  young  man  had  not  made  his  addresses  without  leave 
obtained  from  the  parents ;  he  had  been  acceptable  to  the 

VOL.  I.  — 13 


146  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

daughter  from  the  commencement  of  their  acquaintance  ; 
and  she  had  only  asked  time  to  reflect,  ere  she  gave  her 
answer,  when  he  proposed,  a  day  or  two  before  the  family 
left  New  York. 

To  own  the  truth,  Beulah  was  a  little  surprised  that  her 
suitor  had  delayed  his  appearance  till  near  the  close  of  May, 
when  she  had  expected  to  see  him  at  the  beginning  of  the 
month.  A  letter,  however,  was  out  of  the  question,  since 
there  was  no  mode  of  transmitting  it,  unless  the  messenger 
\vere  sent  expressly  ;  and  the  young  man  had  now  come  in 
person,  to  make  his  own  apologies. 

Beulah  received  Evert  Beekman  naturally,  and  without 
the  least  exaggeration  of  manner,  though  a  quiet  happiness 
beamed  in  her  handsome  face,  that  said  as  much  as  lover 
could  reasonably  desire.  Her  parents  welcomed  him  cor 
dially,  and  the  suitor  must  have  been  dull  indeed,  not  to 
anticipate  all  he  hoped.  Nor  was  it  long  before  every 
doubt  was  removed.  The  truthful,  conscientious  Beulah, 
had  well  consulted  her  heart ;  and,  while  she  blushed  at  her 
own  temerity,  she  owned  her  attachment  to  her  admirer. 
The  very  day  of  his  arrival  they  became  formally  betrothed. 
As  our  tale,  however,  has  but  a  secondary  connection  with 
this  little  episode,  we  shall  not  dwell  on  it  more  than  is  ne 
cessary  to  the  principal  object.  It  was  a  busy  morning, 
altogether ;  and,  though  there  were  many  tears,  there  were 
also  many  smiles.  By  the  time  it  was  usual,  at  that  bland 
season,. for  the  family  to  assemble  on  the  lawn,  everything, 
even  to  the  day,  was  settled  between  Beulah  and  her  lover, 
and  there  was  a  little  leisure  to  think  of  other  things.  It 
was  while  the  younger  Pliny  and  one  of  the  Smashes  were 
preparing  the  tea,  that  the  following  conversation  was  held, 
being  introduced  by  Mr.  Woods,  in  the  way  of  digressing 
from  feelings  in  which  he  was  not  quite  as  much  interested 
as  some  of  the  rest  of  the  party. 

"  Do  you  bring  us  anything  new  from  Boston  ?"  demand 
ed  the  chaplain.  "  I  have  been  dying  to  ask  the  question 
these  two  hours — ever  since  dinner,  in  fact ;  but,  somehow, 
Mr.  Beekman,  I  have  not  been  able  to  edge  in  an  inquiry." 

This  was  said  good-naturedly,  but  quite  innocently;  elicit 
ing  smiles,  blushes,  and  meaning  glances  in  return.  Evert 
Beekman,  however,  looked  grave  before  he  made  his  reply. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  147 

"To  own  the  truth,  Mr.  Woods,"  ho  said,  "things  are 
getting  to  be  very  serious.  Boston  is  surrounded  by  thoti- 
Kimls  of  our  people;  and  we  hope,  not  only  to  keep  tho 
king's  forces  in  tho  Peninsula,  but,  in  the  end,  to  drive  them 
out  of  the  colony/' 

••This  is  a  bold  measure,  Mr.  Bookman! — a  very  bold 
step  to  take  against  Cccsar !" 

"  Woods  preached  about  the  rights  of  Caesar,  no  later  than 
yesterday,  you  ought  to  know,  Beekman,"  put  in  the  laugh 
ing  captain;  "and  I  am  afraid  he  will  be  publicly  praying 
for  the  success  of  the  British  arms,  before  long." 

"  I  did  pray  for  the  Royal  Family,"  said  the  chaplain, 
with  spirit,  "  and  hope  I  shall  ever  continue  to  do  so." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  do  not  object  to  that.  Pray  for  all 
conditions  of  men,  enemies  and  friends  alike;  and,  particu 
larly,  pray  for  our  princes ;  but  pray  also  to  turn  the  hearts 
of  their  advisers." 

Beekman  seemed  uneasy.  He  belonged  to  a  decidedly 
whig  family,  and  was  himself,  at  the  very  moment,  spoken 
of  as  the  colonel  of  one  of  the  regiments  about  to  be  raised 
in  the  colony  of  New  York.  lie  held  that  rank  in  tho 
militia,  as  it  was;  and  no  one  doubted  his  disposition  to  re 
sist  the  British  forces,  at  the  proper  moment.  He  had  even 
stolen  away  from  what  he  conceived  to  be  very  imperative 
duties,  to  secure  the  woman  of  his  heart  before  he  went  into 
the  field.  His  answer,  in  accordance,  partook  essentially 
of  the  bias  of  his  mind. 

"I  do  not  know,  sir,  that  it  is  quite  wise  to  pray  so  very 
willingly  for  the  Royal  Family,"  he  said.  "  We  may  wish 
them  worldly  happiness,  and  spiritual  consolation,  as  part  of 
the  human  race ;  but  political  and  specific  prayers,  in  times 
like  these,  are  to  be  used  with  caution.  Men  attach  more 
than  the  common  religious  notion,  just  now,  to  prayers  for 
the  kin^,  which  some  interpret  into  direct  petitions  against 
the  United  Colonies." 

"  \VelI,"  rejoined  the  captain,  "  I  cannot  agree  to  this, 
myself.  If  there  were  a  prayer  to  confound  parliament  and 
its  counsels,  I  should  be  very  apt  to  join  in  it  cordially ;  but 
I  am  not  yet  ready  to  throw  aside  king,  queen,  princes  and 
princesses,  all  in  a  lump,  on  account  of  a  few  taxes,  and  a 
little  tea." 


148  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this  from  you,  sir,"  answered  Evert. 
"  When  your  opinions  were  canvassed  lately  at  Albany,  1 
gave  a  sort  of  pledge  that  you  were  certainly  more  with  ug 
than  against  us." 

"  Well  then,  I  think,  Beekman,  you  drew  me  in  my  true 
outlines.  In  the  main,  I  think  the  colonies  right,  though  I 
am  still  willing  to  pray  for  the  king." 

"  I  am  one  of  those,  captain  Willoughby,  who  look  for 
ward  to  the  most  serious  times.  The  feeling  throughout  tho 
colonies  is  tremendous,  and  the  disposition  on  the  part  of 
the  royal  officers  is  to  meet  the  crisis  with  force." 

"  You  have  a  brother  a  captain  of  foot  in  one  of  the  regi 
ments  of  the  crown,  colonel  Beekman — what  are  his  views 
in  this  serious  state  of  affairs?" 

"He  has  already  thrown  up  his  commission  —  refusing 
even  to  sell  out,  a  privilege  that  was  afforded  him.  His 
name  is  now  before  congress  for  a  majority  in  one  of  the 
new  regiments  that  are  to  be  raised." 

The  captain  looked  grave ;  Mrs.  Willoughby  anxious ; 
Beulah  interested  ;  and  Maud  thoughtful. 

"  This  has  a  serious  aspect,  truly,"  observed  the  first. 
"  When  men  abandon  all  their  early  hopes,  to  assume  new 
duties,  there  must  be  a  deep  and  engrossing  cause.  I  had 
not  thought  it  like  to  come  to  this !" 

"  We  have  had  hopes  major  Willoughby  might  do  the 
same ;  I  know  that  a  regiment  is  at  his  disposal,  if  he  be 
disposed  to  join  us.  No  one  would  be  more  gladly  received. 
We  are  to  have  Gates,  Montgomery,  Lee,  and  many  other 
old  officers,  from  regular  corps,  on  our  side." 

"  Will  colonel  Lee  be  put  at  the  head  of  the  American 
forces?" 

"  I  think  not,  sir.  He  has  a  high  reputation,  and  a  good 
deal  of  experience,  but  he  is  a  humourist ;  and  what  is  some 
thing,  though  you  will  pardon  it,  he  is  not  an  American 
bom." 

"  It  is  quite  right  to  consult  such  considerations,  Beek 
man  ;  were  I  in  congress,  they  would  influence  me,  English 
man  as  I  am,  and  in  many  things  must  always  remain." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Willoughby,"  exclaimed 
the  chaplain — "  right  down  rejoiced  to  hear  you  say  so !  A 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  149 

man  is  bound  to  stand  by  his  birth-place,  through  thick  and 
thin." 

"  How  do  you,  then,  reconcile  your  opinions,  in  this 
matter,  to  your  birth-place,  Woods?"  asked  the  laughing 
captain. 

To  own  tho  truth,  the  chaplain  was  a  little  confused.  He 
had  entered  into  the  controversy  with  so  much  zeal,  of  late, 
as  to  have  imbibed  the  feelings  of  a  thorough  partisan;  and, 
as  is  usual  with  such  philosophers,  was  beginning  to  over 
look  everything  that  made  against  his  opinions,  and  to 
exaggerate  everything  that  sustained  them. 

"  How  ?" — he  cried,  with  zeal,  if  not  with  consistency— 
"Why,  well  enough.  I  am  an  Englishman  too,  in  the 
general  view  of  the  case,  though  born  in  Massachusetts.  <  )f 
English  descent,  and  an  English  subject." 

"  Umph  ! — Then  Beekman,  here,  who  is  of  Dutch  de 
scent,  is  not  bound  by  the  same  principles  as  we  are  our 
selves?" 

"  Not  by  the  same  feelings,  possibly ;  but,  surely,  by 
the  same  principles.  Colonel  Beekman  is  an  Englishman 
by  construction,  and  you  are  by  birth.  Yes,  I  'm  what  may 
be  called  a  constructive  Englishman." 

Even  Mrs.  Willoughby  and  Beulah  laughed  at  this,  though 
not  a  smile  had  crossed  Maud's  face,  since  her  eye  had  lost 
Robert  Willoughby  from  view.  The  captain's  ideas  seemed 
to  take  a  new  direction,  and  he  was  silent  some  little  time 
before  he  spoke. 

"  Under  the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  now  placed, 
as  respects  each  other,  Mr.  Beekman,"  he  said,  "  it  is  pro 
per  that  there  should  be  no  concealments  on  grave  points. 
Had  you  arrived  an  hour  or  two  earlier,  you  would  have 
met  a  face  well  known  to  you,  in  that  of  my  son,  major 
Willoughby." 

"  Major  Willoughby,  my  dear  sir!"  exclaimed  Beekman, 
with  a  start  of  unpleasant  surprise  ;  "  I  had  supposed  him 
with  the  royal  army,  in  Boston.  You  say  he  has  left  the 
Knoll — I  sincerely  hope  not  for  Albany." 

M  \.» — I  wished  him  to  go  in  that  direction,  at  first,  and 
to  see  you,  in  particular;  but  his  representations  of  the  state 
of  the  country  induced  me  to  change  my  mind ;  he  travels 
by  a  private  way,  avoiding  all  the  towns  of  note,  or  size." 
13* 


150  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  In  that  he  has  done  well,  sir.  Near  to  me  as  a  brother 
of  Beulah's  must  always  seem,  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  Bob, 
just  at  this  moment.  If  there  be  no  hope  of  getting  him  to 
join  us,  the  farther  we  are  separated  the  better." 

This  was  said  gravely,  and  it  caused  all  who  heard  it 
fully  to  appreciate  the  serious  character  of  a  quarrel  that 
threatened  to  arm  brother  against  brother.  As  if  by  com 
mon  consent,  the  discourse  changed,  all  appearing  anxious, 
at  a  moment  otherwise  so  happy,  to  obliterate  impressions 
so  unpleasant  from  their  thoughts. 

The  captain,  his  wife,  Beulah  and  the  colonel,  had  several 
long  and  private  communications  in  the  course  of  the  even 
ing.  Maud  was  not  sorry  to  be  left  to  herself,  and  the 
chaplain  devoted  his  time  to  the  entertainment  of  the  friend 
of  Beekman,  who  was  in  truth  a  surveyor,  brought  along 
partly  to  preserve  appearances,  and  partly  for  service.  The 
chain-bearers,  hunters,  &c.,  had  been  distributed  in  the 
different  cabins  of  the  settlement,  immediately  on  the  arrival 
of  the  party. 

That  night,  when  the  sisters  retired,  Maud  perceived  that 
Beulah  had  something  to  communicate,  out  of  the  common 
way.  Still,  she  did  not  know  whether  it  would  be  proper 
for  her  to  make  any  inquiries,  and  things  were  permitted  to 
take  their  natural  course.  At  length  Beulah,  in  her  gentle 
way,  remarked — 

"  It  is  a  fearful  thing,  Maud,  for  a  woman  to  take  upon 
herself  the  new  duties,  obligations  and  ties  of  a  wife." 

"  She  should  not  do  it,  Beulah,  unless  she  feels  a  love  for 
the  man  of  her  choice,  that  will  sustain  her  in  them.  You, 
who  have  real  parents  living,  ought  to  feel  this  fully,  as  I 
doubt  not  you  do." 

"  Real  parents  !  Maud,  you  frighten  me  !  Are  not  my 
parents  yours  1 — Is  not  all  our  love  common  ?" 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  Beulah.  Dearer  and  better 
parents  than  mine,  no  girl  ever  had.  I  am  ashamed  of  my 
words,  and  beg  you  will  forget  them." 

"  That  I  shall  be  very  ready  to  do.  It  was  a  great  con 
solation  to  think  that  should  I  be  compelled  to  quit  home, 
as  compelled  I  must  be  in  the  end,  I  should  leave  with  my 
father  and  mother  a  child  as  dutiful,  and  one  that  lovea 
them  as  sincerely  as  yourself,  Maud." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  151 

"  You  have  thought  right,  Beulah.  I  do  love  them  to  my 
heart's  core  !  Then  you  arc  right  in  another  sense ;  for  I 
shall  never  marry.  My  mind  is  made  up  to  that." 

"  Well,  dear,  many  are  happy  that  never  marry — many 
women  aiv  happier  than  those  that  do.  Evert  has  a  kind, 
manly,  ailectionate  heart,  and  I  know  will  do  all  he  can  to 
prevent  my  regretting  home;  but  we  can  never  have  more 
than  one  mother,  Maud !" 

Maud  did  not  answer,  though  she  looked  surprised  that 
Deulah  should  say  this  to  her. 

"  Evert  has  reasoned  and  talked  so  much  to  my  father 
and  mother,"  continued  the  Jiancce,  blushing,  "  that  they 
have  thought  we  had  better  be  married  at  once.  Do  you 
know,  Maud,  that  it  has  been  settled  this  evening,  that  the 
ceremony  is  to  take  place  to-morrow !" 

"  This  is  sudden,  indeed,  Beulah  !  Why  have  they  deter 
mined  on  so  unexpected  a  thing  ?" 

"  It  is  all  owing  to  the  state  of  the  country.  I  know  not 
how  he  has  done  it — but  Evert  has  persuaded  my  father, 
that  the  sooner  I  am  his  wife,  the  more  secure  we  shall  all 
be,  here  at  the  Knoll." 

"  I  hope  you  love  Svert  Beekman,  dearest,  dearest  Beu 
lah  r 

"  What  a  question,  Maud  !  Do  you  suppose  I  could  stand 
up  before  a  minister  of  God,  and  plight  my  faith  to  a  man 
I  did  not  love? — Why  have  you  seemed  to  doubt  it?" 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it  —  I  am  very  foolish,  for  I  know  you 
are  conscientious  as  the  saints  in  heaven — and  yet,  Beulah, 
I  think  /  could  scarce  be  so  tranquil  about  one  I  loved." 

The  gentle  Beulah  smiled,  but  she  no  longer  felt  uneasi 
ness.  She  understood  the  impulses  and  sentiments  of  her 
own  pure  but  tranquil  nature  too  well,  to  distrust  herself; 
and  she  could  easily  imagine  that  Maud  would  not  be  as 
composed  under  similar  circumstances. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  well,  sister  of  mine,"  she  answered  laugh 
ing,  though  blushing,  "  that  you  are  so  resolved  to  remain, 
single;  for  one  hardly  knows  where  to  find  a  suitor  suffi 
ciently  devoted  and  ethereal  for  your  taste.  No  one  pleased 
you  last  winter,  though  the  least  encouragement  would  havo 
brought  a  dozen  to  your  feet ;  and  here  there  is  no  one  you 
can  possibly  have,  unless  it  be  dear,  good,  old  Mr.  Woods." 


152  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Maud  compressed  her  lips,  and  really  looked  stern,  so 
determined  was  she  to  command  herself;  then  she  answered 
somewhat  in  her  sister's  vein — 

"  It  is  very  true,"  she  said,  "  there  is  no  hero  for  me  to 
accept,  unless  it  be  dear  Mr.  Woods ;  and  he,  poor  man,  has 
had  one  wife  that  cured  him  of  any  desire  to  possess  another, 
they  say." 

"  Mr.  Woods  !  I  never  knew  that  he  was  married.  Who 
can  have  told  you  this,  Maud  1" 

"  I  got  it  from  Robert" — answered  the  other,  hesitating  a 
little.  "  He  was  talking  one  day  of  such  things." 

"What  things,  dear?' 

"  Why — of  getting  married — I  believe  it  was  about  mar 
rying  relatives — or  connections — or,  some  such  thing ;  for 
Mr.  Woods  married  a  cousin-german,  it  would  seem — and 
so  he  told  me  all  about  it.  Bob  was  old  enough  to  know 
his  wife,  when  she  died.  Poor  man,  she  led  him  a  hard 
life — he  must  be  far  from  the  Knoll,  by  this  time,  Beulah  !" 

"  Mr.  Woods  ! — I  left  him  with  papa,  a  few  minutes  since, 
talking  over  the  ceremony  for  to-morrow  !" 

"  I  meant  Bob " 

Here  the  sisters  caught  each  other's  eyes,  and  both  blush 
ed,  consciousness  presenting  to  them,  at  the  same  instant, 
the  images  that  were  uppermost  in  their  respective  minds. 
But,  no  more  was  said.  They  continued  their  employments 
in  silence,  and  soon  each  was  kneeling  in  prayer. 

The  following  day,  Evert  Beekman  and  Beulah  Willough- 
by  were  married.  The  ceremony  took  place,  immediately 
after  breakfast,  in  the  little  chapel ;  no  one  being  present 
but  the  relatives,  and  Michael  O'Hearn,  who  quieted  his 
conscience  for  not  worshipping  with  the  rest  of  the  people, 
by  acting  as  their  sexton.  The  honest  county  Leitrim-man 
was  let  into  the  secret — as  a  great  secret,  however — at  early 
dawn ;  and  he  had  the  place  swept  and  in  order  in  good 
season,  appearing  in  his  Sunday  attire  to  do  honour  to  the 
occasion,  as  he  thought  became  him. 

A  mother  as  tender  as  Mrs.  Willoughby,  could  not  resign 
the  first  claim  on  her  child,  without  indulging  her  tears. 
Maud  wept,  too ;  but  it  was  as  much  in  sympathy  for  Beu- 
lah's  happiness,  as  from  any  other  cause.  The  marriage, 
in  other  respects,  was  simple,  and  without  any  ostentatious 


J 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  153 

manifestations  of  feeling.  It  was,  in  truth,  one  of  those 
rational  and  wise  connections,  which  promise  to  wear  well, 
there  being  a  perfect  fitness,  in  station,  wealth,  connections, 
years,  manners  and  habits,  between  the  parties.  Violence 
was  done  to  nothing,  in  bringing  this  discreet  and,  well- 
principled  couple  together.  Evert  was  as  worthy  of  Beulah, 
as  she  was  worthy  of  him.  There  was  confidence  in  the 
future,  on  every  side ;  and  not  a  doubt,  or  a  misgiving  of 
any  sort,  mingled  with  the  regrets,  if  regrets  they  could  bo 
called,  that  were,  in  some  measure,  inseparable  from  the 
solemn  ceremony. 

The  marriage  was  completed,  the  affectionate  father  had 
held  the  weeping  but  smiling  bride  on  his  bosom,  the  tender 
mother  hud  folded  her  to  her  heart,  Maud  had  pressed  her 
in  her  arms  in  a  fervent  embrace,  and  the  chaplain  had 
claimed  his  kiss,  when  the  well-meaning  sexton  ap 
proached. 

"  Is  it  the  likes  of  yees  I  wish  well  to  !"  said  Mike — "  Ye 
may  well  say  that;  and  to  yer  husband,  and  childer,  and 
all  that  will  go  before,  and  all  that  have  come  afther  ye !  I 
know'd  ye,  when  ye  was  mighty  little,  and  that  was  years 
agone ;  and  niver  have  I  seen  a  cross  look  on  yer  prctthy 
face.  I  've  app'inted  to  myself,  many's  the  time,  a  consait 
to  tell  ye  all  this,  by  wor-r-d  of  mouth ;  but  the  likes  of 
yees,  and  of  the  Missus,  and  of  Miss  M;iud  there — och  ! 
isn't  she  a  swate  one !  and  many's  the  pity,  there's  no  sich 
tall,  handsome  jontleman  to  take  her,  in  the  bargain,  bad 
luck  to  him  for  staying  away ;  and  so  God  bless  ye,  all, 
praist  in  the  barga;n,  though  he's  no  praist  at  all;  arid 
there 's  my  good  wishes  said  and  done." 


154  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


CHAPTER   X. 

Ho !  Princes  of  Jacob!  the  strength  and  the  stay 

Oi'  the  daughters  of  Zion ; — now  up,  and  away  ; 

Lo,  the  hunters  have  struck  her,  and  bleeding  alone 

Like  a  pard  in  Ihe  desert  she  rnaketh  her  moan  : 

Up  with  war-horse  and  banner,  with  spear  and  with  sword, 

On  the  spoiler  go  down  in  the  might  of  the  Lord ! 

LtJNT. 

THE  succeeding  fortnight,  or  three  weeks,  brought  no 
material  changes,  beyond  those  connected  with  the  progress 
of  the  season.  Vegetation  was  out  in  its  richest  luxuriance, 
the  rows  of  corn  and  potatoes,  freshly  hoed,  were  ornament 
ing  the  flats,  the  wheat  and  other  grains  were  throwing  up 
their  heads,  and  the  meadows  were  beginning  to  exchange 
their  flowers  for  the  seed.  As  for  the  forest,  it  had  now 
veiled  its  mysteries  beneath  broad  curtains  of  a  green  so 
bright  and  lively,  that  one  can  only  meet  it,  beneatli  a  ge 
nerous  sun,  tempered  by  genial  rains,  and  a  mountain  air. 
The  chain-bearers,  and  other  companions  of  Beekman, 
quitted  the  valley  the  day  after  the  wedding,  leaving  no  one 
of  their  party  behind  but  its  principal. 

The  absence  of  the  major  was  not  noted  by  Joel  and 
his  set,  in  the  excitement  of  receiving  so  many  guests,  and 
in  the  movement  of  the  wedding.  But,  as  soon  as  the  fact 
was  ascertained,  the  overseer  and  miller  made  the  pretence 
of  a  '  slack-time'  in  their  work,  and  obtained  permission  to 
go  to  Ihe  Mohawk,  on  private  concerns  of  their  own.  Such 
journeys  were  sufficiently  common  to  obviate  suspicion  ; 
and,  the  leave  had,  the  two  conspirators  started  off,  in  com 
pany,  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  or  forty-eight  hours 
after  the  major  and  Nick  had  disappeared.  As  the  latter 
was  known  to  have  come  in  by  the  Fort  Stanwix  route,  it 
was  naturally  enough  supposed  that  he  had  returned  by  the 
same ;  and  Joel  determined  to  head  him  on  the  Mohawk,  at 
some  point  near  Schenectady,  where  he  might  make  a  merit 
of  his  cwn  patriotism,  by  betraying  the  son  of  his  master. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  !•"»') 

The  reader  is  not  to  suppose  Joel  intended  to  do  all  this 
openly  ;  so  far  from  it,  his  plan  was  to  keep  himself  in  tho 
back-ground,  while  he  attracted  attention  to  the  supposed 
toryism  of  the  captain,  and  illustrated  his  own  attachment 
to  the  colonies. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  this  plan  failed,  in 
consequence  of  the  new  path  taken  by  Nick.  At  the  very 
moment  when  Joel  and  the  miller  were  lounging  about  a 
Dutch  inn,  some  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  above  Schenectady, 
in  waiting  for  the  travellers  to  descend  the  valley  of  tho 
Mohawk,  Robert  Willoughby  and  his  guide  were  actually 
crossing  the  Hudson,  in  momentary  security  at  least.  After 
remaining  at  his  post  until  satisfied  his  intended  prey  had 
escaped  him,  Joel,  with  his  friend,  returned  to  the  settle 
ment.  Still,  the  opportunity  had  been  improved,  to  mako 
himself  better  acquainted  with  the  real  state  of  the  country; 
to  open  communications  with  certain  patriots  of  a  moral 
calibre  about  equal  to  his  own,  but  of  greater  influence;  to 
throw  out  divers  injurious  hints,  and  secret  insinuations  con 
cerning  the  captain ;  and  to  speculate  on  the  propriety  of 
leaving  so  important  a  person  to  work  his  will,  at  a  time  so 
critical.  But  the  pear  was  not  yet  ripe,  and  all  that  could 
now  be  done  was  to  clear  the  way  a  little  for  something  im 
portant  in  future. 

In  the  meantime,  Evert  Bookman  having  secured  his 
gentle  and  true-hearted  wife,  began,  though  with  a  heavy 
heart,  to  bethink  him  of  his  great  political  duties.  It  was 
well  understood  that  he  was  to  have  a  regiment  of  the  new 
levies,  and  Beulah  had  schooled  her  affectionate  heart  to  a 
degree  that  permitted  her  to  part  with  him,  in  such  a  cause, 
with  seeming  resignation.  It  was,  sooth  to  say,  a  curious 
spectacle,  to  see  how  these  two  sisters  bent  all  their  thoughts 
and  wishes,  in  matters  of  a  public  nature,  to  favour  the  en 
grossing  sentiments  of  their  sex  and  natures;  Maud  being 
strongly  disposed  to  sustain  the  royal  cause,  and  the  bride 
to  support  that  in  which  her  husband  had  enlisted,  heart 
and  hand. 

As  for  captain  Willoughby,  he  said  little  on  the  subject 
of  politics ;  but  the  marriage  of  Beulah  had  a  powerful  in 
fluence  in  confirming  his  mind  in  the  direction  it  had  taken 
after  the  memorable  argument  with  the  chaplain.  Colonel 


156  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Bcekman  was  a  man  of  strong  good  sense,  though  without 
the  least  brilliancy ;  and  his  arguments  were  all  so  clear 
and  practical,  as  to  carry  with  them  far  more  weight  than 
was  usual  in  the  violent  partisan  discussions  of  the  period. 
Beulah  fancied  him  a  Solon  in  sagacity,  and  a  Bacon  in 
wisdom.  Her  father,  without  proceeding  quite  as  far  as  this, 
was  well  pleased  with  his  cool  discriminating  judgment,  and 
much  disposed  to  defer  to  his  opinions.  The  chaplain  was 
left  out  of  the  discussions  as  incorrigible. 

The  middle  of  June  was  passed,  at  the  time  colonel  Beek- 
man  began  to  think  of  tearing  himself  from  his  wife,  in 
order  to  return  into  the  active  scenes  of  preparation  he  had 
quitted,  to  make  this  visit.  As  usual,  the  family  frequented 
the  lawn,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  the  circumstance  of  most 
of  the  windows  of  the  Hut  looking  on  the  court,  rendering 
this  resort  to  the  open  air  more  agreeable  than  might  other 
wise  have  been  the  case.  Evert  was  undecided  whether  to 
go  the  following  morning,  or  to  remain  a  day  longer,  when 
the  lawn  was  thus  occupied,  on  the  evening  of  the  25th  of 
the  month,  Mrs.  Willoughby  making  the  tea,  as  usual,  her 
daughters  sitting  near  her,  sewing,  and  the  gentlemen  at 
hand,  discussing  the  virtues  of  different  sorts  of  seed-corn. 

"  There  is  a  stranger  !"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  chaplain, 
looking  towards  the  rocks  near  the  mill,  the  point  at  which 
all  arrivals  in  the  valley  were  first  seen  from  the  Hut.  "  He 
comes,  too,  like  a  man  in  haste,  whatever  may  be  his  er 
rand." 

"  God  be  praised,"  returned  the  captain  rising ;  "  it  is 
Nick,  on  his  usual  trot,  and  this  is  about  the  time  he  sho  Ad 
be  back,  the  bearer  of  good  news.  A  week  earlier  might 
have  augured  better ;  but  this  will  do.  The  fellow  moves 
over  the  ground  as  if  he  really  had  something  to  communi 
cate  !" 

Mrs.  Willoughby  and  her  daughters  suspended  their  avo- 
cations,  and  the  gentlemen  stood,  in  silent  expectation, 
watching  the  long,  loping  strides  of  the  Tuscarora,  as  he 
came  rapidly  across  the  plain.  In  a  few  minutes  the  Indian 
came  upon  the  lawn,  perfectly  in  wind,  moving  with  deli 
beration  and  gravity,  as  he  drew  nearer  to  the  party.  Cap 
tain  Willoughby,  knowing  his  man,  waited  quite  another 


TIIE     IIUTTED     KNOLL.  157 

minute,  after  the  red-mail  was  leaning  against  an  apple-tree, 
be lo re  he  questioned  him. 

"  Welcome  back,  Nick,"  he  then  said.  "  Where  did  you 
leave  my  a 

"  He  tell  dere,"  answered  the  Indian,  presenting  a  note, 
which  the  captain  read. 

"  This  is  all  right,  Nick  ;  and  it  shows  you  have  been  a 
true  man.  Your  wages  shall  be  paid  to-night.  But,  this 
letter  has  been  written  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Hudson, 
and  is  quite  three  weeks  old — why  have  we  not  seen  you, 
soon  ,  • 

"t'an't  see,  when  he  don't  come." 

"  That  is  plain  enough  ;  but  why  have  you  not  come  back 
sooner '.'  That  is  my  question." 

"  Want  to  look  at  country — went  to  shore  of  Great  Salt 
Lake." 

"  Oh  ! — Curiosity,  then,  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  your 
absence  ?" 

'•  Nick  warrior — no  squaw — got  no  cur'osity." 

M  No,  no — I  beg  your  pardon,  Nick  ;  I  did  not  mean  to 
accuse  you  of  so  womanish  a  feeling.  Far  from  it ;  I  know 
you  are  a  man.  Tell  us,  however,  how  far,  and  whither 
you  went  ?" 

11  Bos'on,"  answered  Nick,  sententiously. 

••  Huston  !  That  has  been  a  journey,  indeed.  Surely  my 
son  did  not  allow  you  to  travel  in  his  company  through 
Massachusetts?" 

"Nick  go  alone.  Two  path;  one  for  major;  one  for 
Tuscarora.  Nick  got  dcre  first." 

"  That  I  can  believe,  if  you  were  in  earnest.  Were  you 
not  questioned  by  the  way  ?" 

"  Yes.  Tell  'em  I  'm  Stockbridge — pale- face  know  no 
belter.  T'ink  he  fox;  more  like  wood-chuck." 

"Thank  you,  Nick,  for  the  compliment.  Had  my  son 
<1  Boston  before  you  came  away  .'" 

11  H'-rc  he  be" — answered  the  Indian,  producing  another 
i:ii>>ive,  from  the  folds  of  his  calico  shirt. 

The  captain  received  the  note  which  lie  read  with' extreme 
gravity,  and  some  surprise. 

"  This  is  in  Bob's  hand-writing,"  he  said,  "  and  is  dated 

VOL.  I.— 14 


158  THE     HUTTED-   KNOLL. 

*  Boston,  June  18th,  1775;'  but  it  is  without  signature,  and 
is  not  only  Bob,  but  Bob  Short." 

"  Read,  dear  Willoughby,"  exclaimed  the  anxious  mo 
ther.  "  News  from  him,  concerns  us  all." 

"  News,  Wilhelmina  ! — They  may  call  this  news  in  Bos 
ton,  but  one  is  very  little  the  better  for  it  at  the  Hutted  Knoll. 
However,  such  as  it  is,  there  is  no  reason  for  keeping  it  a 
secret,  while  there  is  one  reason,  at  least,  why  it  should  be 
known.  This  is  all.  '  My  dearest  sir — Thank  God  I  am 
unharmed ;  but  we  have  had  much  to  make  us  reflect ;  you 
know  what  duty  rcquires-^-my  best  and  endless  love  to  my 
mother,  and  Beulah — and  dear,  laughing,  capricious,  pretty 
Maud.  Nick  was  present,  and  can  tell  you  all.  I  do  not 
think  he  will  "  extenuate,  or  aught  set  down  in  malice." ' 
And  this  without  direction,  or  signature ;  with  nothing,  in 
fact,  but  place  and  date.  What  say  you  to  all  this,  Nick?" 

"  He  very  good — major  dere ;  he  know.  Nick  dere — hot 
time — a  t'ousand  scalp — coat  red  as  blood." 

"  There  has  been  another  battle  !"  exclaimed  the  captain  ; 
"  that  is  too  plain  to  admit  of  dispute.  Speak  out  at  once, 
Nick — which  gained  the  day ;  the  British  or  the  Ameri 
cans?" 

"  Hard  to  tell — one  fight,  t'other  fight.  Red-coat  take  do 
ground  ;  Yankee  kill.  If  Yankee  could  take  scalp  of  all  he 
kill,  he  whip.  But,  poor  warriors  at  takin'  scalp.  No  know 
how." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Woods,  there  does  seem  to  be  some 
thing  in  all  this !  It  can  hardly  be  possible  that  the  Ameri 
cans  would  dare  to  attack  Boston,  defended  as  it  is,  by  a 
strong  army  of  British  regulars." 

"  That  would  they  not,"  cried  the  chaplain,  with  em 
phasis.  "  This  has  been  only  another  skirmish." 

"  What  you  call  skirmge?"  asked  Nick,  pointedly.  "  It 
skirmge  to  take,  t'ousand  scalp,  ha  ?" 

"  Tell  us  what  has  happened,  Tuscarora?"  said  the  cap 
tain,  motioning  his  friend  to  be  silent. 

"  Soon  tell — soon  done.  Yankee  on  hill ;  reg'lar  in  canoe. 
Hundred,  t'ousand,  fifty  canoe — full  of  red-coat.  Great 
chief,  dere  ! — ten — six — two — all  go  togeder.  Come  ashore 
— parade,  pale-face  manner — march  —  booh  —  booh--dem 
cannon ;  pop,  pop — dem  gun.  Wah  !  how  he  run  "* 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  159 

"Run!  —  who  ran,  Nick?  —  Though  I  suppose  it  must 
have  been  the  poor  Americans,  of  course." 

"  Red-coat  run,"  nnsuvivii  the  Indian,  quietly. 

This  reply  produced  a  general  sensation,  even  the  ladies 
starting,  and  ^a/in^  at  each  other. 

*•  Ili-d-ruut  rim" — repeated  the  captain,  slowly.  "Goon 
with  your  history,  Nick — where  was  this  battle  fought?" 

"  T'other  Bos'on— over  river — go  in  canoe  to  fight,  liko 
Injin  from  Canada." 

"  That  must  have  been  in  Charlestown,  Woods—you  may 
remember  Boston  is  on  one  peninsula,  and  Charlestown  on 
another.  Still,  I  do  not  recollect  that  the  Americans  wcro 
in  the  latter,  Beckman — you  told  me  nothing  of  that  .'" 

"  They  were  not  so  near  the  royal  forces,  certainly,  when 
I  left  Albany,  sir,"  returned  the  colonel.  "  A  few  direct 
questions  to  the  Indian,  however,  would  brino-  out  the  whole 
truth." 

"  We  must  proceed  more  methodically.  How  many 
Yankees  were  in  this  fight,  Nick  ? — Calculate  as  we  used 
to,  in  the  French  war." 

"  Reach  from  here  to  mill — t'ree,  two  deep,  cap'in.  All 
farmer;  no  sodger.  Carry  gun,  but  no  carry  baggonet ; 
no  carry  knapsack.  No  wear  red-coat.  Look  like  town- 
meetin' ;  fight  like  devils." 

"  A  line  as  long  as  from  this  to  the  mill,  three  deep,  would 
contain  about  two  thousand  men,  Beekman.  Is  that  what 
you  wish  to  say,  Nick  ?" 

"  That  about  him — pretty  near— just  so." 

"  Well,  then,  there  were  about  two  thousand  Yankees  on 
this  hill — how  many  king's  troops  crossed  in  the  canoes,  to 
go  against  them'?" 

"Two  time  —  one  time,  so  many;  t'other  time,  half  so 
many.  Nick  close  by  ;  count  him" 

"  That  would  make  three  thousand  in  all !  By  Geor^r, 
this  does  look  like  work.  Did  they  all  go  together,  Nick"?" 

"  No ;  one  time  go  first ;  fight,  run  away.  Den  two  time 
go,  fight  good  deal — run  away,  too.  Den  try  harder — set 
fire  to  wigwam — go  up  hill ;  Yankee  run  a\\ 

"  This  is  plain  enough,  and  quite  graphical.  Wigwam  on 
fire?  Charlestown  is  not  burnt,  Ni 

"  Dat  he  —  Look  like  old  Council  Fire,  gone  out.     Big 


160  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

canoe  fire — booh — booh — Nick  nebber  see  such  war  before 
—  wah !  Dead  man  plenty  as  leaves  on  tree ;  blood  run 
like  creek !" 

"  Were  you  in  this  battle,  Nick  1  How  came  you  to  learn 
so  much  about  it?" 

"Don't  want  to  be  in  it  —  better  out  —  no  scalp  taken. 
Red-man  not'iri'  to  do,  dere.  How  know  about  him  ? — See 
him  —  dat  all.  Got  eye;  why  no  see  him,  behind  stone 
wall.  Good  see,  behind  stone  wall." 

"  Were  you  across  the  water  yourself,  or  did  you  remain 
in  Boston,  and  see  from  a  distance?" 

"  Across  in  canoe  —  tell  red-coat,  general  send  letter  by 
Nick — major  say,  he  my  friend — let  Nick  go." 

"  My  son  was  in  this  bloody  battle,  then !"  said  Mrs. 
Willoughby.  "  He  writes,  Hugh,  that  he  is  safe?" 

"  He  does,  dearest  Wilhelmina ;  and  Bob  knows  us  too 
well,  to  attempt  deception,  in  such  a  matter." 

"Did  you  see  the  major  in  the  field,  Nick  —  after  you 
crossed  the  water,  I  mean  ?" 

"  See  him,  all.  Six — two — seven  t'ousand.  Close  by ; 
why  not  see  major  stand  up  like  pine — no  dodge  he  head, 
dere.  Kill  all  round  him — no  hurt  him!  Fool  to  stay  dere — 
tell  him  so ;  but  he  no  come  away.  Save  he  scalp,  too." 

"  And  how  many  slain  do  you  suppose  there  might  have 
been  left  on  the  ground — or,  did  you  not  remain  to  see  ?" 

"  Did  see — stay  to  get  gun — knapsack — oder  good  t'ing — • 
plenty  about ;  pick  him  up,  fast  as  want  him."  Here  Nick 
coolly  opened  a  small  bundle,  and  exhibited  an  epaulette, 
several  rings,  a  watch,  five  or  six  pairs  of  silver  buckles, 
and  divers  other  articles  of  plunder,  of  which  he  had  man 
aged  to  strip  the  dead.  "  All  good  t'ing — plenty  as  stone — 
have  him  widout  askin'." 

"  So  I  see,  Master  Nick — and  is  this  the  plunder  of  Eng 
lishmen,  or  of  Americans?" 

"  Red-coat  nearest — got  most  t'ing,  too.  Go  farder,  fare 
worse  ;  as  pale-face  say." 

"  Quite  satisfactory.  Were  there  more  red-coats  left  on 
the  ground,  or  more  Americans  ?" 

"  Red-coat  so,"  said  Nick,  holding  up  four  fingers  — 
"  Yankee,  so';"  holding  up  one.  Take  big  grave  to  hold 
red-coat.  Small  grave  won't  hold  Yankee.  Hear  what  he 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL-  161 

count ;  most  red-coat.  More  than  thousand  warrior  !  Bri 
tish  groan,  like  s.jti;i\v  dat  ioso  her  liunter." 

Such  was  Saucy  Nick's  description  of  the  celebrated, 
and,  in  soin-*  particulars,  unrivalled  combat  of  Hunker  Hill, 
of  \vhirh  lit-  had  actually  Uvn  an  rye-witni-ss,  on  the  ground, 
though  usiniT  thf  precaution  to  keep  his  body  well  covered, 
ltd  not  think  it  necessary  to  state  the  fact  that  he  had 
glvm  the  coup-de-grace,  himself,  to  the  owner  of  the  epau 
lette,  nor  did  he  deem  it  essential  to  furnish  all  the  particu 
lars  of  his  mode  of  obtaining  so  many  buckles.  In  other 
respects,  his  account  was  fair  enough,  "  nothing  extenuating, 
or  setting  down  aught  in  malice."  The  auditors  had  listened 
with  intense  feeling  ;  and  .Maud,  when  the  allusion  was  made 
to  Robert  Willoughby,  buried  her  pallid  face  in  her  hands, 
and  wept.  As  for  Bculuh,  time  and  again,  she  glanced 
anxiously  at  her  husband,  and  bethought  her  of*the  danger 
to  which  he  might  so  soon  be  exposed. 

The  receipt  of  this  important  intelligence  confirmed  Beek- 
man  in  the  intention  to  depart.  The  very  next  morning  he 
tore  himself  away  from  Beulah,  and  proceeded  to  Albany. 
The  appointment  of  Washington,  and  a  long  list  of  other 
officers,  soon  succeeded,  including  his  own  as  a  colonel ; 
and  the  war  may  be  said  to  have  commenced  systematically. 
Its  distant  din  occasionally  reached  the  Hutted  Knoll ;  but 
the  summer  passed  away,  bringing  with  it  no  event  to  affect 
the  tranquillity  of  that  settlement.  Even  Joel's  schemes  were 
thwarted  for  a  time,  and  he  was  fain  to  continue  to  wear  the 
mask,  and  to  gather  that  harvest  for  another,  which  he  had 
hoped  to  reap  for  his  own  benefit. 

Beulah  had  all  a  young  wife's  fears  for  her  husband  ;  but, 
as  month  succeeded  month,  and  one  affair  followed  another, 
without  bringing  him  harm,  she  began  to  submit  to  the 
anxieties  inseparable  from  her  situation,  with  less  of  self- 
torment,  and  more  of  reason.  Her  mother  and  Maud  were 
invaluable  friends  to  her,  in  this  novel  and  trying  situation, 
though  each  had  her  own  engrossing  cares  on  account  of 
Robert  Willoughby.  As  no  other  great  battle,  however, 
occurred  in  the  course  of  the  year  '75,  Bcckman  remained 
in  sat«-ty  with  the  troops  that  invested  Boston,  and  the  major 
with  the  army  within  it.  Neither  was  much  exposed,  and 
14* 


162  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

glad  enough  were  these  gentle  affectionate  hearts,  when  they 
learned  that  the  sea  separated  the  combatants. 

This  did  not  occur,  however,  until  another  winter  was 
passed.  In  November,  the  family  left  the  Hut,  as  had  been 
its  practice  of  late  years,  and  went  out  into  the  more  inha 
bited  districts  to  pass  the  winter.  This  time  it  came  only  to 
Albany,  where  colonel  Beekman  joined  it,  passing  a  few 
happy  weeks  with  his  well-beloved  Beulah.  The  ancient 
town  mentioned  was  not  gay  at  a  moment  like  that ;  but  it 
had  many  young  officers  in  it,  on  the  American  side  of  the 
question,  who  were  willing  enough  to  make  themselves  ac 
ceptable  to  Maud.  The  captain  was  not  sorry  to  see  several 
of  these  youths  manifesting  assiduity  about  her  he  had  so 
long  been  accustomed  to  consider  as  his  youngest  daughter ; 
for,  by  this  time,  his  opinions  had  taken  so  strong  a  bias  in 
favour  of  the  rights  of  the  colonies,  that  Beekman  himself 
scarce  rejoiced  more  whenever  he  heard  of  any  little  success 
alighting  on  the  American  arms. 

"  It  will  all  come  right  in  the  end,"  the  worthy  captain 
used  to  assure  his  friend  the  chaplain.  "  They  will  open 
their  eyes  at  home,  ere  long,  and  the  injustice  of  taxing  the 
colonies  will  be  admitted.  Then  all  will  come  round  again  ; 
the  king  will  be  as  much  beloved  as  ever,  and  England  and 
America  will  be  all  the  better  friends  for  having  a  mutual 
respect.  I  know  my  countrymen  well ;  they  mean  right, 
and  will  do  right,  as  soon  as  their  stomachs  are  a  little 
lowered,  and  they  come  to  look  at  the  truth,  coolly.  I  'II 
answer  for  it,  the  Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill  made  ws" — the 
captain  had  spoken  in  this  way,  now,  for  some  months — • 
"  made  us  a  thousand  advocates,  where  we  had  one  before. 
This  is  the  nature  of  John  Bull ;  give  him  reason  to  respect 
you,  and  he  will  soon  do  you  justice;  but  give  him  reason 
to  feel  otherwise,  and  he  becomes  a  careless,  if  not  a  hard 
master." 

Such  were  the  opinions  captain  Willoughby  entertained 
of  his  native  land ;  a  land  he  had  not  seen  in  thirty  years, 
and  one  in  which  he  had  so  recently  inherited  unexpected 
honours,  without  awakening  a  desire  to  return  and  enjoy 
them.  His  opinions  were  right  in  part,  certainly  ;  for  they 
depended  on  a  law  of  nature,  while  it  is  not  improbable  they 
were  wrong  in  all  that  was  connected  with  the  notions  of 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  103 

any  peculiarly  manly  quality,  in  any  particular  part  of 
Christendom.  No  maxim  is  truer  than  that  which  teaches 
us  **  like  causes  produce  like  ••  ad  a-;  human  l>eings 

are  governed  by  very  similar  laws  all  over  the  (ace  of  this 
round  world  of  ours,  nothing  is  more  certain  than  the  simi 
larity  of  their  propensities. 

Maud  had  no  smiles,  beyond  those  extracted  by  her  natu 
rally  sweet  disposition,  and  a  very  prevalent  desire  to  oblige, 
for  any  of  the  young  soldiers,   or   youn^  civilians,  who 
crowded  about  her  chair,  during  the  Albany  winter  men 
tioned.  Two  or  three  of  colonel  Beekman's  military  friends, 
in  particular,  would  very  gladly  have  become  com; 
with  an  officer  so  much  respected,  through  means  E 
ceedingly   agreeable;    but   no  encouragement  emboldened 
either  to  go  beyond  the  attention  and  assiduities  of  a  marked 
politeness. 

"  I  know  not  how  it  is,"  observed  Mrs.  Willoughby,  one 
day,  in  a  t&te-a-ttte  with  her  husband ;  "  Maud  seems  to 
take  less  pleasure  than  is  usual  with  girls  of  her  years,  in  the 
attentions  of  your  sex.  That  her  heart  is  affectionate  — 
warm — even  tender,  I  am  very  certain  ;  and  yet  no  sign  of 
preference,  partiality,  or  weakness,  in  favour  of  any  of  these 
fine  young  men,  of  whom  we  see  so  many,  can  I  discover 
in  the  child.  They  all  seem  alike  to  her !" 

"  Her  time  will  corne,  as  it  happened  to  her  mother  before 
her,"  answered  the  captain.  "  Whooping-cough  and  measles 
are  not  more  certain  to  befall  children,  than  love  to  befall  a 
young  woman.  You  were  all  made  for  it,  my  dear  Willy, 
and  no  fear  but  the  girl  will  catch  the  disease,  one  of  these 
and  that,  too,  without  any  inoculation." 

"  I  am  sure,  I  have  no  wish  to  separate  from  my  child" — 
so  Mrs.  Willoughby  always  spoke  of,  and  so  she  always 
felt  towards  Maud — "  I  am  sure,  I  have  no  wish  to  separate 
from  my  child ;  but  as  we  cannot  always  remain,  it  is  per 
haps  better  this  one  should  rnarry,  like  the  other.  Th 
young  Vcrplanck  much  devoted  to  her;  he  is  everyway  ,1 
suitable  match  ;  and  then  he  is  in  Evert's  own  regiment."' 

M  Ay,  he  would  do;  though  to  my  fancy  Luke  Herring  is 
the  far  better  match." 

"That  is  bccaiK--  h"  is  richer  and  more  powerful,  Iluoh 
—you  men  cannot  think  of  a  daughter's  establishment,  with- 


164  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

out  immediately  dragging  in  houses  and  lands,  as  part  of 
the  ceremony." 

"  By  George,  wife  of  mine,  houses  and  lands  in  modera 
tion,  are  very  good  sweeteners  of  matrimony  !" 

"  And  yet,  Hugh,  I  have  been  very  happy  as  a  wife,  nor 
have  you  been  very  miserable  as  a  husband,  without  any 
excess  of  riches  to  sweeten  the  state !"  answered  Mrs.  WiU 
loughby,"  reproachfully.  "  Had  you  been  a  full  general,  I 
could  not  have  loved  you  more  than  I  have  done  as  a  mere 
captain." 

"  All  very  true,  Wilhelmina,  dearest,"  returned  the  hus 
band,  kissing  the  faithful  partner  of  his  bosom  with  strong 
affection — "  very  true,  my  dear  girl ;  for  girl  you  are  and 
ever  will  be  in  my  eyes ;  but  you  are  one  in  a  million,  and 
I  humbly  trust  there  are  not  ten  hundred  and  one,  in  every 
thousand,  just  like  myself.  For  my  part,  I  wish  dear,  saucy, 
capricious  little  Maud,  no  worse  luck  in  a  husband,  than 
Luke  Herring." 

"  She  will  never  be  his  wife ;  I  know  her,  and  my  own 
sex,  too  well  to  think  it.  You  are  wrong,  however,  Wil- 
loughby,  in  applying  such  terms  to  the  child.  Maud  is  not 
in  the  least  capricious,  especially  in  her  affections.  See  with 
what  truth  and  faithfulness  of  sisterly  attachment  she  clings 
to  Bob.  I  do  declare  I  am  often  ashamed  to  feel  that  even 
his  own  mother  has  less  solicitude  about  him  than  this  dear 
girl." 

"  Pooh,  Willy  ;  don't  be  afflicted  with  the  idea  that  you 
don't  make  yourself  sufficiently  miserable  about  the  boy. 
Bob  will  do  well  enough,  and  will  very  likely  come  out  of 
this  affair  a  lieutenant-colonel.  I  may  live  yet  to  see  him  a 
general  officer  ;  certainly,  if  I  live  to  be  as  old  as  my  grand 
father,  Sir  Thomas.  As  for  Maud,  she  finds  Beulah  uneasy 
about  Bcekman ;  and  having  no  husband  hers-ejf,  or  any 
lover  that  she'cares  a  straw  about,  why  she  just  falls  upon 
Bob  as  a  pis  oilier.  I  '11  warrant  you  she  cares  no  more  for 
him  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us — than  myself,  for  instance; 
though  as  an  old  soldier,  I  don't  scream  every  time  I  fancy 
a  gun  fired  over  yonder  at  Boston." 

"  I  wish  it  were  well  over.  It  is  so  unnatural  for  Ever! 
and  Robert  to  be  on  opposite  sides." 

"  Yes,  it  is  out  of  the  common  way,  I  admit ;  and  yet 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  1G5 

'twill  all  come  round,  in  the  long  run.  This  Mr.  Washington 
is  a  clever  lellou,  ami  seems  to  play  his  cards  with  spirit 
and  judgment,  He  \sa-  with  us,  in  that  awkward  affair  of 
Braddock'fl ;  and  between  you  and  me,  Wilhelmina,  he  co- 
veivd  the  regulars,  or  we  should  all  have  laid  our  bonos  on 
that  accursed  field.  I  wrote  you  at  the  time,  what  I  thought 
of  him,  and  now  you  see  it  is  all  coming  to  pass." 

It  was  one  of  the  captain's  foibles  to  believe  himself  a 
political  prophet ;  and,  as  he  had  really  both  written  and 
spoken  highly  of  Washington,  at  the  time  mentioned,  it  had 
no  small  influence  on  his  opinions  to  find  himself  acting  on 
the  same  side  with  this  admired  favourite.  Prophecies  often 
produce  their  own  fulfilment,  in  cases  of  much  greater  gra 
vity  than  this;  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  our  captain 
found  himself  strengthened  in  his  notions  by  the  circum 
stance. 

The  winter  passed  away  without  any  of  Maud's  suitors 
making  a  visible  impression  on  her  heart.  In  March, 
the  English  evacuated  Boston,  Robert  Willoughby  sailing 
with  his  regiment  for  Halifax,  and  thence  with  the  expedi 
tion  against  Charleston,  under  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  Tho 
next  month,  the  family  returned  to  the  Knoll,  where  it  was 
thought  wiser,  and  even  safer  to  be,  at  a  moment  so  critical, 
than  even  in  a  more  frequented  place.  The  war  proceeded, 
and,  to  the  captain's  great  regret,  without  any  very  visible 
approaches  towards  the  reconciliation  he  had  so  confidently 
anticipated.  This  rather  checked  his  warmth  in  favour  of 
the  colonial  cause;  for,  an  Englishman  by  birth,  he  was 
much  opposed  at  bottom  to  anything  like  a  dissolution  of 
the  tie  that  connected  America  with  the  mother  country ;  a 
political  event  that  now  began  seriously  to  be  talked  of 
among  the  initiated. 

Desirous  of  thinking  as  little  as  possible  of  disagreeable 
things,  the  worthy  owner  of  the  valley  busied  himself  with 
his  crops,  his  mills,  and  his  improvements.  He  had  intended 
to  commence  leasing  his  wild  lands  about  this  time,  and  to 
begin  a  more  extended  settlement,  with  an  eye  to  futurity  ; 
but  the  state  of  the  country  forbade  the  execution  of  the. 
project,  and  he  was  fain  to  limit  his  efforts  by  their  former 
boundaries.  The  geographical  position  of  the  valley  put  it 
beyond  any  of  the  ordinary  exactions  of  military  service  j 


106  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

and,  as  there  was  a  little  doubt  thrown  around  its  owner's 
opinions,  partly  in  consequence  of  his  son's  present  and  his 
own  previous  connection  with  the  royal  army,  and  partly 
on  account  of  Joel's  secret  machinations,  the  authorities 
were  well  content  to  let  the  settlement  alone,  provided  it 
would  take  care  of  itself.  Notwithstanding  the  prominent 
patriotism  of  Joel  Strides  and  the  miller,  they  were  well 
satisfied,  themselves,  with  this  state  of  things ;  preferring 
peace  and  quietness  to  the  more  stirring  scenes  of  war. 
Their  schemes,  moreover,  had  met  with  somewhat  of  a 
check,  in  the  feeling  of  the  population  of  the  valley,  which, 
on  an  occasion  calculated  to  put  their  attachment  to  its 
owner  to  the  proof,  had  rather  shown  that  they  remembered 
his  justice,  liberality,  and  upright  conduct,  more  than  exactly 
comported  with  their  longings.  This  manifestation  of  re 
spect  was  shown  at  an  election  for  a  representative  in  a 
local  convention,  in  which  every  individual  at  the  Hutted 
Knoll,  who  had  a  voice  at  all,  the  two  conspirators  excepted, 
had  given  it  in  favour  of  the  captain.  So  decided  was  this 
expression  of  feeling,  indeed,  that  it  compelled  Joel  and  the 
miller  to  chime  in  with  the  cry  of  the  hour,  and  to  vote 
contrary  to  their  own  wishes. 

One,  dwelling  at  the  Hutted  Knoll,  in  the  summer  of  1776, 
could  never  have  imagined  that  he  was  a  resident  of  a  coun 
try  convulsed  by  a  revolution,  and  disfigured  by  war.  There, 
everything  seemed  peaceful  and  calm,  the  woods  sighing 
with  the  airs  of  their  sublime  solitude,  the  genial  sun  shed 
ding  its  heats  on  a  grateful  and  generous  soil,  vegetation 
ripening  and  yielding  with  all  the  abundance  of  a  bountiful 
nature,  as  in  the  more  tranquil  days  of  peace  and  hope. 

"  There  is  something  frightful  in  the  calm  of  this  valley, 
Beulah  !"  exclaimed  Maud  one  Sunday,  as  she  and  her  sister 
looked  out  cf  the  library  window  amid  the  breathing  stillness 
of  the  forest,  listening  to  the  melancholy  sound  of  the  bell 
that  summoned  them  to  prayers.  "  There  is  a  frightful 
calm  over  this  place,  at  an  hour  when  we  know  that  strife 
and  bloodshed  are  so  active  in  the  country.  Oh  !  that  the 
hateful  congress  had  never  thought  of  making  this  war!" 

"  Evert  writes  me  all  is  well,  Maud ;  that  the  times  will 
lead  to  good ;  the  people  are  right ;  and  America  will  now 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  167 

be  a  nation — in  time,  he  thinks,  a  great,  and  a  very  great 
nation.'' 

"  Ah  !  It  is  this  ambition  of  greatness  that  hurries  them 
all  on  !  Why  can  they  not  be  satisfied  with  being  respecta 
ble  subjects  of  so  great  a  country  as  England,  that  they 
must  destroy  each  other  for  this  phantom  of  liberty  1  Will 
i:  make  them  wiser,  or  happier,  or  better  than  they  are?" 

Thus  reasoned  Maud,  under  the  influence  of  one  engross 
ing  sentiment.  As  our  tale  proceeds,  we  shall  have  occasion 
to  show,  perhaps,  how  far  was  that  submission  to  events 
wh'h-h  she  inculcated,  from  the  impulses  of  her  true  character. 
Bculah  answered  mildly,  but  it  was  more  as  a  young  Ame 
rican  wife  : 

"  I  know  Event  thinks  it  all  right,  Maud  ;  and  you  will 
own  he  is  neither  fiery  nor  impetuous.  If  his  cool  judgment 
approve  of  what  has  been  done,  we  may  well  suppose  that 
it  has  not  been  done  in  too  much  haste,  or  needlessly." 

"  Think,  Bculah,"  rejoined  Maud,  with  an  ashen  cheek, 
and  in  trembling  tones,  "  that  Evert  and  Robert  may,  at 
this  very  moment,  be  engaged  in  strife  against  each  other. 
The  last  messenger  who  came  in,  brought  us  the  miserable 
tidings  that  Sir  William  Howe  was  landing  a  large  army 
near  New  York,  and  that  the  Americans  were  preparing  to 
meet  it.  We  are  certain  that  Bob  is  with  his  regiment ;  and 
his  regiment  we  know  is  in  the  army.  How  can  we  think 
of  this  liberty,  at  a  moment  so  critical?" 

Beulah  did  not  reply  ;  for  in  spite  of  her  quiet  nature,  and 
implicit  confidence  in  her  husband,  she  could  not  escape  a 
woman's  solicitude.  The  colonel  had  promised  to  write  at 
every  good  occasion,  and  that  which  he  promised  was  usually 
performed.  She  thought,  and  thought  rightly,  that  a  very 
few  days  would  bring  them  intelligence  of  importance ; 
though  it  came  in  a  shape  she  had  little  anticipated,  and  by 
a  messenger  she  had  then  no  desire  to  see. 

In  the  meantime,  the  season  and  its  labours  advanced. 
August  was  over,  and  September  with  its  fruits  had  suc 
ceeded,  promising  to  bring  the  year  round  without  any  new 
or  extraordinary  incidents  to  change  the  fortunes  of  the  in 
mates  of  the  Hutted  Knoll.  Beulah  had  now  been  married 
more  than  a  twelvemonth,  and  was  already  a  mother;  and 
of  course  all  that  time  had  elapsed  since  the  son  quitted  his 


168  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

father's  house.  Nick,  too,  had  disappeared  shortly  after 
his  return  from  Boston ;  and  throughout  this  eventful  sum 
mer,  his  dark,  red  countenance  had  not  been  seen  in  the 

valley. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

And  now  'tis  still !  no  sound  to  wake 
The  primal  forest's  awful  shade ; 
And  breathless  lies  the  covert  brake, 
Where  many  an  ambushed  form  is  laid : 
I  see  the  red-man's  gleaming  eye, 
Yet  all  so  hushed  the  gloom  profound, 
That  summer  birds  flit  heedlessly, 
And  mocking  nature  smiles  around. 

LUNT. 

THE  eventful  summer  of  1776  had  been  genial  and  gener 
ous  in  the  valley  of  the  Hutted  Knoll.  With  a  desire  to  drive 
away  obtrusive  thoughts,  the  captain  had  been  much  in  his 
fields,  and  he  was  bethinking  himself  of  making  a  large  con 
tribution  to  the  good  cause,  in  the  way  of  fatted  porkers,  of 
which  he  had  an  unusual  number,  that  he  thought  might 
yet  be  driven  through  the  forest  to  Fort  Stanwix,  before  the 
season  closed.  In  the  way  of  intelligence  from  the  seat  of 
war,  nothing  had  reached  the  family  but  a  letter  from  the 
major,  which  he  had  managed  to  get  sent,  and  in  which  he 
wrote  with  necessary  caution.  He  merely  mentioned  the 
arrival  of  Sir  William  Howe's  forces,  and  the  state  of  his 
own  health.  There  was  a  short  postscript,  in  the  following 
words,  the  letter  having  been  directed  to  his  father : — "  Tell 
dearest  Maud,"  he  said,  "  that  charming  women  have  ceased 
to  charm  me ;  glory  occupying  so  much  of  my  day-dreams, 
like  an  ignis  fatuus,  I  fear ;  and  that  as  for  love,  all  my 
affections  are  centred  in  the  dear  objects  at  the  Hutted  Knoll. 
If  I  had  met  with  a  single  woman  I  admired  half  as  much 
as  I  do  her  pretty  self,  I  should  have  been  married  long 
since."  This  was  written  in  answer  to  some  thoughtless 
rattle  that  the  captain  had  volunteered  to  put  in  his  last 
letter,  as  coming  from  Maud,  who  had  sensitively  shrunk 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  169 

from  sending  a  message  when  asked ;  and  it  was  read  by 
father,  mother,  and  Beulah,  as  the  badinage  of  a  brother  to 
a  sister,  without  awaking  a  second  thought  in  either.  Not 
HO  with  Maud,  herself,  however.  When  her  seniors  had 
done  with  this  letter,  she  carried  it  to  her  own  room,  reading 
and  re-reading  it  a  dozen  times;  nor  could  she  muster  reso 
lution  to  return  it ;  but,  tinding  at  length  that  the  epistle  was 
forgotten,  she  succeeded  in  retaining  it  without  awakening 
attention  to  what  she  had  done.  This  letter  now  became 
her  constant  companion,  and  a  hundred  times  did  the  sweet 
girl  trace  its  characters,  in  the  privacy  of  her  chamber,  or 
in  that  of  her  now  solitary  walks  in  the  woods. 

As  yet,  the  war  had  produced  none  of  those  scenes  of 
ruthless  frontier  violence,  that  had  distinguished  all  the  pre 
vious  conflicts  of  America.  The  enemy  was  on  the  coast, 
and  thither  the  efforts  of  the  combatants  had  been  principally 
directed.  It  is  true,  an  attempt  on  Canada  had  been  made, 
but  it  failed  for  want  of  means ;  neither  party  being  in  a 
condition  to  effect  much,  as  yet,  in  that  quarter.  The  cap 
tain  had  commented  on  this  peculiarity  of  the  present  strug 
gle  ;  all  those  which  had  preceded  it  having,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  taken  the  direction  of  the  frontiers  between  the  hos 
tile  provinces. 

"  There  is  no  use,  Woods,  in  bothering  ourselves  about 
these  things,  after  all,"  observed  captain  Willoughby,  one 
day,  when  the  subject  of  hanging  the  long-neglected  gates 
came  up  between  them.  "  It 's  a  heavy  job,  and  the  crops 
will  sutler  if  we  lake  off  the  hands  this  week.  We  are  as 
safe,  here,  as  we  should  be  in  Hyde  Park;  and  safer  too; 
for  there  house-breakers  and  foot-pads  abound ;  whereas, 
your  preaching  has  left  nothing  but  very  vulgar  and  every 
day  sinners  at  the  Knoll." 

The  chaplain  had  little  to  say  against  this  reasoning;  for, 
to  own  the  truth,  he  saw  no  particular  cause  for  apprehen 
sion.  Impunity  had  produced  the  feeling  of  security,  until 
these  gates  had  got  to  be  rather  a  subject  of  amusement, 
than  of  any  serious  discussion.  The  preceding  year,  when 
the  stockade  was  erected,  Joel  had  managed  to  throw  so 
many  obstacles  in  the  way  of  hanging  the  gates,  that  the 
duty  was  not  performed  throughout  the  whole  of  the  present 
summer,  the  subject  having  been  mentioned  but  once  or 

VOL.  I.  — 15 


170  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

twice,  and  then  only  to  be  postponed  to  a  more  fitting  occa 
sion. 

As  yet  no  one  in  the  valley  knew  of  the  great  event  which 
had  taken  place  in  July.  A  rumour  of  a  design  to  de 
clare  the  provinces  independent  had  reached  the  Hut  in 
May ;  but  the  major's  letter  was  silent  on  this  important 
event,  and  positive  information  had  arrived  by  no  other 
channel ;  otherwise,  the  captain  would  have  regarded  the 
struggle  as  much  more  serious  than  he  had  ever  done  be 
fore  ;  and  he  might  have  set  about  raising  these  all-important 
gates  in  earnest.  As  it  was,  however,  there  they  stood ; 
each  pair  leaning  against  its  proper  wall  or  stockade,  though 
those  of  the  latter  were  so  light  as  to  have  required  but 
eight  or  ten  men  to  set  them  on  their  hinges,  in  a  couple  of 
hours  at  most. 

Captain  Willoughby  still  confined  his  agricultural  schemes 
to  the  site  of  the  old  Beaver  Pond.  The  area  of  that  was 
perfectly  beautiful,  every  unsightly  object  having  been  re 
moved,  while  the  fences  and  the  tillage  were  faultlessly  neat 
and  regular.  Care  had  been  taken,  too,  to  render  the  few 
small  fields  around  the  cabins  which  skirted  this  lovely  rural 
scene,  worthy  of  their  vicinage.  The  stumps  had  all  been 
dug,  the  surfaces  levelled,  and  the  orchards  and  gardens 
were  in  keeping  with  the  charms  that  nature  had  so  bounti 
fully  scattered  about  the  place. 

While,  however,  all  in  the  shape  of  tillage  was  confined 
to  this  one  spot,  the  cattle  ranged  the  forest  for  miles.  Not 
only  was  the  valley,  but  the  adjacent  mountain-sides  were 
covered  with  intersecting  paths,  beaten  by  the  herds,  in  the 
course  of  years.  These  paths  led  to  many  a  glen,  or  look 
out,  where  Beulah  and  Maud  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of 
pursuing  their  rambles,  during  the  sultry  heats  of  summer. 
Though  so  beautiful  to  the  eye,  the  flats  were  not  agreeable 
for  walks ;  and  it  was  but  natural  for  the  lovers  of  the  pic 
turesque  to  seek  the  eminences,  where  they  could  overlook 
the  vast  surfaces  of  leaves  that  were  spread  before  them  ;  or 
to  bury  themselves  in  ravines  and  glens,  within  which  the 
rays  of  the  sun  scarce  penetrated.  The  paths  mentioned 
led  near,  or  to,  a  hundred  of  these  places,  all  within  a  mile 
or  two  of  the.  Hut.  As  a  matter  of  course,  then,  they  were 
not  neglected. 


THE     IIUTTED     KNOLL.  171 

Beuhli  had  now  been  a  mother  several   months.     Her 
little  Evert  was  born  at  the  Knoll,  and  he  occupied  most  of 

politic  and  aileetionate  thoughts  which  were  not  en 
grossed  by  his  absent  lather.  Her  marriage,  of  itself,  had 

some  changes  in  her  intercourse  with  Maud  ;  but  the 
birth  of  the  child  had  brought  about  still  more.  The  care 
of  this  little  being  formed  Beulah's  great  delight;  and  Mrs. 
Willoughby  had  ail  that  peculiar  interest  in  her  descendant, 
which  marks  a  grandmothers  irresponsible  love.  '1 
two  passed  half  their  time  in  the  nursery,  a  room  fitted  bc- 
..  their  respective  chambers;  leaving  Maud  more  alone 
than  it  was  her  wont  to  be,  and  of  course  to  brood  over  her 
thoughts  and  leelings.  Th-->i.'  p<-ri<nU  of  solitude  our  heroine 
iiuch  accustomed  to  pass  in  the  forest.  Use  had  so  far 
emboldened  her,  that  apprehension  never  shortened  her 
walks,  or  lessened  their  pleasure.  Of  danger,  from  any 
ordinary  source,  there  was  literally  next  to  none,  man  never 
having  been  known  to  approach  the  valley,  unless  by  the 
regular  path  ;  while  the  beasts  of  prey  had  been  so  actively 
hunted,  as  rarely  to  be  seen  in  that  quarter  of  the  country. 
The  panther  excepted,  no  wild  quadruped  was  to  be  in  the 
least  feared  in  summer ;  and,  of  the  first,  none  had  ever 
been  met  with  by  Nick,  or  any  of  the  numerous  woodsmen 
who  had  now  frequented  the  adjacent  hills  for  two  lustrums. 
About  three  hours  before  the  setting  of  the  sun,  on  the 
evening  of  the  23d  of  September,  1770,  Maud  Willoughby 
was  pursuing  her  way,  quite  alone,  along  ohe  of  the  paths 
beaten  by  the  cattle,  at  some  little  distance  from  a  rocky 
eminence,  where  there  was  a  look-out,  on  which  Mike,  by 
her  father's  orders,  had  made  a  rude  seat.  It  was  on  the 
side  of  the  clearing  most  remote  from  all  the  cabins  ;  though, 
once  on  the  elevation,  she  could  command  a  view  of  the 
whole  of  the  little  panorama  around  the  site  of  the  ancient 
pond.  In  that  day,  ladies  wore  the  well-known  gipscy  hat, 
a  style  that  was  peculiarly  suited  to  the  face  of  our  heroine. 

Be  had  oiven  her  cheeks  a  rich  glow;  and  though  a 
shade  of  sadness,  or  at  least  of  reflection,  was  now  habitually 
thrown  athwart  her  sweet  countenance,  this  bloom  added  an 
unusual  lustre  to  her  eyes,  and  a  brilliancy  to  her  beauty, 
that  the  proudest  belle  of  any  drawing-room  might  have 
been  glad  to  possess.  Although  living  so  retired,  her  dress 


172  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

always  became  her  rank  ;  being  simple,  but  of  the  charao 
ter  that  denotes  refinement,  and  the  habits  and  tastes  of  a 
gentlewoman.  In  this  particular,  Maud  had  ever  been  ob 
servant  of  what  was  due  to  herself;  and,  more  than  all,  had 
she  attended  to  her  present  appearance  since  a  chance  ex 
pression  of  Robert  Willoughby's  had  betrayed  how  much 
he  prized  the  quality  in  her. 

Looking  thus,  and  in  a  melancholy  frame  of  mind,  Maud 
reached  the  rock,  and  took  her  place  on  its  simple  seat, 
throwing  aside  her  hat,  to  catch  a  little  of  the  cooling  air  on 
her  burning  cheeks.  She  turned  to  look  at  the  lovely  view 
again,  with  a  pleasure  that  never  tired.  The  rays  of  the 
sun  were  streaming  athwart  the  verdant  meadows  and  rich 
corn,  lengthening  the  shadows,  and  mellowing  everything, 
as  if  expressly  to  please  the  eye  of  one  like  her  who  now 
gazed  upon  the  scene.  Most  of  the  people  of  the  settlement 
were  in  the  open  air,  the  men  closing-  their  day's  works  in 
the  fields,  and  the  women  and  children  busied  beneath 
shades,  with  their  wheels  and  needles ;  the  whole  presenting 
such  a  picture  of  peaceful,  rural  life,  as  a  poet  might  de 
light  to  describe,  or  an  artist  to  delineate  with  his  pencil. 

"  The  landscape  smiles 
Calm  in  the  sun ;  and  silent  are  the  hills 
And  valleys,  and  the  blue  serene  of  air." 

The  Vanished  Lark. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful !"  thought  Maud.  "  Why  cannot 
men  be  content  with  such  scenes  of  loveliness  and  nature 
as  this,  and  love  each  other,  and  be  at  peace,  as  God's  laws 
command?  Then  we  might  all  be  living  happily  together, 
here,  without  trembling  lest  news  of  some  sad  misfortune 
should  reach  us,  from  hour  to  hour.  Beulah  and  Evert 
would  not  be  separated ;  but  both  could  remain  with  their 
child — and  my  dear,  dear  father  and  mother  would  be  so 
happy  to  have  us  all  around  them,  in  security — and,  then, 
Bob,  too — perhaps  Bob  might  bring  a  wife  from  the  town, 
with  him,  that  I  could  love  as  I  do  Beulah" — It  was  one  of 
Maud's  day-dreams  to  love  the  wife  of  Bob,  and  make  him 
happy  by  contributing  to  the  happiness  of  those  he  most 
prized — "  No  ;  I  could  never  love  her  as  I  do  Beulah;  but 
I  should  make  her  very  dear  to  me,  as  I  ought  to,  since  she 
would  be  Bob's  wife." 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  173 

The  expression  of  Maud's  lace,  towards  the  close  of  this 
mental  soliloquy,  was  of  singular  sadness;  and  yrt  it  was 
the  \vry  picture  of  sincerity  and  truth.  It  was  some  such 
look  us  the  windows  of  I  lie-  mind  assume,  when  the  feelings 
struggle  against  nature  and  hope,  for  resignation  and  sub- 
u  to  duty. 

At  this  instant,  a  cry  arose  from  the  valley  !  It  was  one 
of  those  spontaneous,  involuntary  outbreaking!  of  alarm, 
that  no  art  can  imitate,  no  pen  describe;  but  which  convex  s 
to  the  listener's  ear,  terror  in  the  very  sound.  At  the  next 
instant,  the  men  from  the  mill  were  seen  rushing  up  to  the 
summit  of  the  dill'  that  impended  over  their  dwellings,  fol 
lowed  by  their  wives  dragging  children  after  them,  making 
frantic  gestures,  indicative  of  alarm.  The  first  impulse  of 
Maud  was  to  llyr ;  but  a  moment's  reflection  told  her  it  was 
much  too  late  for  that.  To  remain  and  witness  what  fol 
lowed  would  be  safer,  and  more  wise.  Her  dress  was  dark, 
and  she  would  not  be  likely  to  be  observed  at  the  distance 
at  which  she  was  placed ;  having  behind  her,  too,  a  back 
ground  of  gloomy  rock.  Then  the  scene  was  too  exciting  to 
admit  of  much  hesitation  or  delay  in  coming  to  a  decision  ; 
a  fearful  species  of  maddened  curiosity  mingling  with  her 
alarm.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
Maud  continued  gazing  on  what  she  saw,  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  devour  the  objects  before  them. 

The  first  cry  from  the  valley  was  followed  by  the  appear 
ance  of  the  fugitives  from  the  mill.  These  took  the  way 
towards  the  Hut,  calling  on  the  nearest  labourers  by  imme, 
to  seek  safety  in  flight.  The  words  could  not  be  distin 
guished  at  the  rock,  though  indistinct  sounds  might;  but 
the  gestures  could  not  be  mistaken.  In  half  a  minute,  the 
plain  was  alive  with  fugitives;  some  rushing  to  their  cabins 
for  their  children,  and  all  taking  the  direction  of  the  stock 
ade,  as  soon  as  the  last  were  found.  In  five  minutes  the 
and  lanes  near  the  Knoll  were  crowded  with  m»-n, 
women  and  children,  hastening  forward  to  its  protection, 
while  a  few  of  the  former  had  already  rushed  through  the 
Maud  correctly  fancied,  in  quest  of  their  arms. 

(  'aptain  Willoughby  was  riding  am<>nj;  his  labourers  when 
this  fearful  interruption  to  a  tranquillity  so  placid  first  broke 
upon  his  ear.  Accustomed  to  alarms,  lie  galloped  forward 
15  * 


174  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

to  meet  the  fugitives  from  the  mill,  issuing  orders  as  he 
passed  to  several  of  the  men  nearest  the  house.  With  the 
miller,  who  thought  little  of  anything  but  safety  at  that  in 
stant,  he  conversed  a  moment,  and  then  pushed  boldly  on 
towards  the  verge  of  the  cliffs.  Maud  trembled  as  she  saw 
her  father  in  a  situation  which  she  thought  must  be  so  ex 
posed  ;  but  his  cool  manner  of  riding  about  proved  that  he 
saw  no  enemy  very  near.  At  length  he  waved  his  hat  to 
some  object,  or  person  in  the  glen  beneath ;  and  she  even 
thought  she  heard  his  shout.  At  the  next  moment,  he  turned 
his  horse,  and  was  seen  scouring  along  the  road  towards  the 
Hut.  The  lawn  was  covered  with  the  fugitives  as  the  captain 
reached  it,  while  a  few  armed  men  were  already  coming  out 
of  the  court-yard.  Gesticulating  as  if  giving  orders,  the 
captain  dashed  through  them  all,  without  drawing  the  rein, 
and  disappeared  in  the  court.  A  minute  later,  he  re-issued, 
bearing  his  arms,  followed  by  his  wife  and  Beulah,  the  latter 
pressing  little  Evert  to  her  bosom. 

Something  like  order  now  began  to  appear  among  the 
men.  Counting  all  ages  and  both  colours,  the  valley,  at 
this  particular  moment,  could  muster  thirty-three  males 
capable  of  bearing  arms.  To  these  might  be  added  some 
ten  or  fifteen  women  who  had  occasionally  brought  down  a 
deer,  and  who  might  be  thought  more  or  less  dangerous, 
stationed  at  a  loop,  with  a  rifle  or  a  musket.  Captain  Wil- 
loughby  had  taken  some  pains  to  drill  the  former,  who  could 
go  through  some  of  the  simpler  light-infantry  evolutions. 
Among  them  he  had  appointed  sundry  corporals,  while  Joel 
Strides  had  been  named  a  serjeant.  Joyce,  now  an  eged 
and  war-worn  veteran,  did  the  duty  of  adjutant.  Twenty 
men  were  soon  drawn  up  in  array,  in  front  of  the  open  gate 
way  on  the  lawn,  under  the  immediate  orders  of  Joyce  ;  and 
the  last  woman  and  child,  that  had  been  seen  approaching 
the  place  of  refuge,  had  passed  within  the  stockade.  At  this 
instant  captain  Willoughby  called  a  party  of  the  stragglers 
around  him,  and  set  about  hanging  the  gates  of  the  outer 
passage,  or  that  which  led  through  the  palisades. 

Maud  would  now  have  left  th^  rock,  but,  at  that  moment, 
a  dark  body  of  Indians  poured  up  over  the  cliffs,  crowning 
it  with  a  menacing  cloud  of  at  least  fifty  armed  warriors. 
The  rivulet  lay  between  her  and  l*he  Hut,  and  the  nearest 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  175 

bridge  that  crossed  it  would  have  brought  her  within  reach 
of  (hinder.  Then  it  would  require  at  least  half  an  hour  to 
reach  that  bridge  by  the  circuitous  path  she  would  be  com- 
pd led  to  take,  and  there  was  little  hope  of  getting  over  it 
before  the  strangers  should  have  advanced.  It  was  better 
to  remain  where  she  could  behold  what  was  passing,  and  to 
be  governed  by  events,  than  to  rush  blindly  into  unseen 
risks. 

The  party  that  crowned  the  cliffs  near  the  mills,  showed 
no  impatience  to  advance.  It  was  evidently  busy  in  recon 
noitring,  and  in  receiving  accessions  to  its  numbers.  The 
latter  soon  increased  to  some  seventy  or  eighty  warriors. 
After  waiting  several  minutes  in  inaction,  a  musket,  or  rifle, 
was  fired  towards  the  Hut,  as  if  to  try  the  effect  of  a  summons 
and  the  range  of  a  bullet.  At  this  hint  the  men  on  the  lawn 
retired  within  the  stockade,  stacked  their  arms,  and  joined 
the  party  that  was  endeavouring  to  get  the  gates  in  their 
places.  From  the  circumstance  that  her  father  directed  all 
the  women  and  children  to  retire  within  the  court,  Maud 
supposed  that  the  bullet  might  have  fallen  somewhere  near 
them.  It  was  quite  evident,  however,  that  no  one  was  in 
jured. 

The  gates  intended  for  the  stockade,  being  open  like  the 
rest  of  that  work,  were  materially  lighter  than  those  con 
structed  for  the  house  itself.  The  difficulty  was  in  handling 
them  with  the  accuracy  required  to  enter  the  hinges,  of 
which  there  were  three  pairs.  This  difficulty  existed  on 
account  of  their  great  height.  Of  physical  force,  enough 
could  be  applied  to  toss  them  over  the  stockade  itself,  if 
necessary ;  but  finesse  was  needed,  rather  than  force,  to 
effect  the  principal  object,  and  that  under  difficult  circum 
stances.  It  is  scarcely  possible  that  the  proximity  of  so 
fierce  an  enemy  as  a  body  of  savages  in  their  war-paint, 
;oh  the  men  at  the  mill  had  discovered  was  the  guiso 
of  their  assailants,  would  in  any  measure  favour  the  coolness 
and  tact  of  the  labourers.  Poor  Maud  lost  the  sense  of  her 
own  danger,  in  the  nervous  desire  to  see  the  long-forgotten 
gates  hung ;  and  she  rose  once  or  twice,  in  feverish  excite 
ment,  as  she  saw  that  the  leaf  which  was  raised  fell  in  or 
out,  missing  its  fastenings.  Still  the  men  persevered,  one 


176  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

or  two  sentinels  being  placed  to  watch  the  Indians,  and  give 
timely  notice  of  their  approach,  should  they  advance. 

Maud  now  kneeled,  with  her  face  bowed  to  the  seat,  and 
uttered  a  short  but  most  fervent  prayer,  in  behalf  of  the  dear 
beings  that  the  Hut  contained.  This  calmed  her  spirits  a 
little,  and  she  rose  once  more  to  watch  the  course  of  events. 
The  body  of  men  had  left  the  gate  at  which  they  had  just 
been  toiling,  and  were  crowding  around  its  fellow.  One 
leaf  was  hung !  As  an  assurance  of  this,  she  soon  after  saw 
her  father  swing  it  backward  and  forward  on  its  hinges,  to 
cause  it  to  settle  into  its  place.  This  was  an  immense  relief, 
though  she  had  heard  too  many  tales  of  Indian  warfare,  to 
think  there  was  any  imminent  danger  of  an  attack  by  open 
day,  in  the  very  face  of  the  garrison.  The  cool  manner  in 
which  her  father  proceeded,  satisfied  her  that  he  felt  the 
same  security,  for  the  moment ;  his  great  object  being,  in 
truth,  to  make  suitable  provision  against  the  hours  of  dark 
ness. 

Although  Maud  had  been  educated  as  a  lady,  and  possess 
ed  the  delicacy  and  refinement  of  her  class,  she  had  unavoid 
ably  caught  some  of  the  fire  and  resolution  of  a  frontier  life. 
To  her,  the  forest,  for  instance,  possessed  no  fancied  dan- 
gers;  but  when  there  was  real  ground  for  alarm,  she  estimated 
its  causes  intelligently,  and  with  calmness.  So  it  was,  also, 
in  the  present  crisis.  She  remembered  all  she  had  boen 
taught,  or  had  heard,  and  quick  of  apprehension,  her  infor 
mation  was  justly  applied  to  the  estimate  of  present  circum 
stances. 

The  men  at  the  Hut  soon  had  the  second  leaf  of  the  gate 
ready  to  be  raised.  At  this  instant,  an  Indian  advanced 
across  the  fiat  alone,  bearing  a  branch  of  a  tree  in  his  hand, 
and  moving  swiftly.  This  was  a  flag  of  truce,  desiring  to 
communicate  with  the  pale-faces.  Captain  Willoughby  met 
the  messenger  alone,  at  the  foot  of  the  lawn,  and  there  a 
conference  took  place  that  lasted  several  minutes.  Maud 
could  only  conjecture  its  objects,  though  she  thought  her 
father's  attitude  commanding,  and  his  gestures  stern.  The 
red-man,  as  usual,  was  quiet  and  dignified.  This  much  our 
heroine  saw,  or  fancied  she  saw ;  but  beyond  this,  of  course, 
all  was  vague  conjecture.  Just  as  the  two  were  about  to 
part,  and  had  even  made  courteous  signs  of  their  intention,  a 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  177 


shout  arose   from  the  workmen,   which   a-crnded, 
i'aintly,  as   hi^h  as  the  ro  -k.      Captain  Wiiloughby  turned, 
and  thdi  Maud  saw  his  arm  extended  towards  the  stockade 
The  second  leaf  of  thr>  gate  was   in   its   place,   swinging   tc 
and   fro,  in  ,1  sort  of  exulting  demonstration  of  its   i 
Tin1  savage  moved  away,  more  slowly  than  he  had  ;idva 
occasionally  stopping  to  reconnoitre  the  Knoll  and  its  de 
fences. 

Captain  Willoughby  now  returned  to  his  people,  and  he 
->mc  time  busied  in  examining  the  gates,  and  giving 
directions  about  its  fastenings.  Utterly  forgetful  of  her  own 
situation,  Maud  shed  tears  of  joy,  as  she  saw  that  this  great 
object  was  successfully  effected.  The  stockade  was  an  im- 
'  security  to  the  people  of  the  Hut.  Although  it  cer 
tainly  might  be  scaled,  such  an  enterprise  would  require 
great  caution,  courage,  and  address;  and  it  could  hardly 
be  effected,  at  all,  by  day-light.  At  night,  even,  it  would 
allow  the  sentinels  time  to  give  the  alarm,  and  with  a  vigi 
lant  look-out,  might  be  the  means  of  repelling  an  enemy. 
There  was  also  another  consideration  connected  with  this 
stockade.  An  enemy  would  not  be  fond  of  trusting  himself 
inside  of  it,  unless  reasonably  certain  of  carrying  the  citadel 
altogether  ;  inasmuch  as  it  might  serve  as  a  prison  to  place 
him  in  the  hands  of  the  i-arri^m.  To  recross  it  under  a 
fire  from  the  loops,  would  be  an  exploit  so  hazardous  that 
few  Indians  would  think  of  undertaking  it.  All  this  .Maud 
knew  from  her  father's  conversations,  and  she  saw  how 
much  had  been  obtained  in  raising  the  gates.  Then  the 
stockade,  once  properly  closed,  aflorded  great  security  to 
those  moving  about  within  it;  the  timbers  would  be  apt  to 
stop  a  bullet,  and  were  a  perfect  defence  against  a  rush  ; 
leaving  time  to  the  women  and  children  to  get  into  the  court, 
even  allowing  that  the  assailants  succeeded  in  scaling  the 
palisades. 

.Maud  thought  rapidly  and  well,  in  the  strait  in  which  she 
was  placed.  She  understood  most  of  the  movements,  on 
both  sides,  and  she  also  saw  the  importance  of  her  remain- 
inn  where  she  could  note  all  that  passed,  if  she  intended  to 
make  an  attempt  at  reaching  the  Hut,  after  dark.  This 
necessity  determined  her  to  continue  at  the  rock,  so  long  as 
light  remained.  She  wondered  she  was  not  missed,  but 


178  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

rightly  attributed  the  circumstance  to  the  suddenness  of  the 
alarm,  and  the  crowd  of  other  thoughts  which  would  natu 
rally  press  upon  the  minds  of  her  friends,  at  such  a  fearful 
moment.  "  I  will  stay  where  I  am,"  thought  Maud,  a  little 
proudly,  "  and  prove,  if  I  am  not  really  the  daughter  of 
Hugh  VVilloughby,  that  I  am  not  altogether  unworthy  of 
his  love  and  care  !  I  can  even  pass  the  night  in  the  forest, 
at  this  warm  season,  without  suffering." 

Just  as  these  thoughts  crossed  her  mind,  in  a  sort  of  men 
tal  soliloquy,  a  stone  rolled  from  a  path  above  her,  and  fell 
over  the  rock  on  which  the  seat  was  placed.  A  footstep  was 
then  heard,  and  the  girl's  heart  beat  quick  with  apprehen 
sion.  Still  she  conceived  it  safest  to  remain  perfectly  quiet. 
She  scarce  breathed  in  her  anxiety  to  be  motionless.  Then 
it  occurred  to  her,  that  some  one  beside  herself  might  be 
out  from  the  Hut,  and  that  a  friend  was  near.  Mike  had 
been  in  the  woods  that  very  afternoon,  she  knew ;  for  she 
had  seen  him ;  and  the  true-hearted  fellow  would  indeed  be 
a  treasure  to  her,  at  that  awful  moment.  This  idea,  which 
rose  almost  to  certainty  as  soon  as  it  occurred,  induced  her 
to  spring  forward,  when  the  appearance  of  a  man,  whom 
she  did  not  recognise,  dressed  in  a  hunting-shirt,  and  other 
wise  attired  for  the  woods,  carrying  a  short  rifle  in  the 
hollow  of  his  arm,  caused  her  to  stop,  in  motionless  terror. 
At  first,  her  presence  was  not  observed ;  but,  no  sooner  did  the 
stranger  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  person,  than  he  stopped, 
raised  his  hands  in  surprise,  laid  his  rifle  against  a  tree,  and 
sprang  forward ;  the  girl  closing  her  eyes,  and  sinking  on 
the  seat,  with  bowed  head,  expecting  the  blow  of  the  deadly 
tomahawk. 

"  Maud — dearest,  dearest  Maud — do  you  not  know  me  !" 
exclaimed  one,  leaning  over  the  pallid  girl,  while  he  passed 
an  arm  round  her  slender  waist,  with  an  affection  so  delicate 
and  reserved,  that,  at  another  time,  it  might  have  attracted 
attention.  "  Look  up,  dear  girl,  and  show  that  at  least  you 
fear  not  me  /" 

"  Bob,"  said  the  half-senseless  Maud.  "  Whence  come 
you? — Why  do  you  come  at  this  fearful  instant! — Would 
to  God  your  visit  had  been  better  timed  !" 

"  Terror  makes  you  say  this,  my  poor  Maud  !  Of  ail  the 
family,  I  had  hoped  for  the  warmest  welcome  from  you. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  179 

Wo  think  alike  about  this  war — then  you  arc  not  so  much 
terrified  at  the  idea  of  my  being  found  here,  but  can  hear 
reason.  Why  do  you  say  thi<,  then,  my  dearest  Maud  I" 

By  this  time  Maud  had  so. far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to 
look  up  into  the  major's  fan*,  with  an  expression  in  which 
alarm  was  blended  with  unutterable  tenderness.  Still  she 
did  not  throw  her  arms  around  him,  as  a  sister  would  clasp 
a  beloved  brother ;  but,  rather,  as  he  pressed  her  gently  to 
liis  bosom,  repelled  the  embrace  by  a  slight  resistance. 
Extricating  herself,  however,  she  turned  and  pointed  towards 
the  valley. 

"  Why  do  I  say  this  ?  See  for  yourself— the  savages  havo 
at  length  come,  and  the  whole  dreadful  picture  is  before 
you."' 

Young  Willoughby's  military  eye  took  in  the  scene  at  a 
glance.  The  Indians  were  still  at  the  clifF,  and  the  peoplo 
of  the  settlement  were  straining  at  the  heavier  gates  of  tho 
Hut,  having  already  got  one  of  them  into  a  position  where 
it  wanted  only  the  proper  application  of  a  steady  force  to  bo 
hung.  He  saw  his  father  actively  employed  in  giving' direc 
tions  ;  and  a  few  pertinent  questions  drew  all  the  other  cir 
cumstances  from  Maud.  The  enemy  had  now  been  in  tho 
valley  more  than  an  hour,  and  the  movements  of  the  two 
parties  were  soon  related. 

"Are  you  alone,  dearest  Maud?  are  you  shut  out  by  this 
sudden  inroad?"  demanded  the  major,  with  concern  and 
surprise. 

"  So  it  would  seem.  I  can  see  no  other — though  I  did 
think  Michael  might  be  somewhere  near  me,  in  the  "woods, 
here ;  I  at  first  mistook  your  footsteps  for  his." 

*'  That  is  a  mistake" — returned  Willousrhby,  levelling  a 
small  pocket  spy-glass  at  the  Hut — "  Mike  is  tugging  at 
that  gate,  upholding  a  part  of  it,  like  a  corner-stone.  I  see 
most  of  the  faces  I  know  there,  and  my  dear  father  is  as 
active,  and  yet  as  cool,  as  if  at  the  head  of  a  regiment." 

"  Then  I  am  alone — it  is  perhaps  better  that  as  many  as 
possible  should  be  in  the  house  to  defend  it." 

"  Not  alone,  my  sweet  Maud,  so  long  as  I  am  with  you. 
Do  you  still  think  my  visit  so  ill-timed  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not,  after  all.  Heaven  knows  what  I  should 
have  done,  by  myself,  when  it  became  dark  1" 


180  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  But  are  we  safe  on  this  seat  ? — May  we  not  be  seen  by 
the  Indians,  since  we  so  plainly  see  them  ?" 

"  I  think  not.  I  have  often  remarked  that  when  Evert 
and  Beulah  have  been  here,  their  figures  could  not  be  per 
ceived  from  the  lawn ;  owing,  I  fancy,  to  the  dark  back 
ground  of  rock.  My  dress  is  not  light,  and  you  are  in 
green ;  which  is  the  colour  of  the  leaves,  and  not  easily  to 
be  distinguished.  No  other  spot  gives  so  good  a  view  of 
what  takes  place  in  the  valley.  We  must  risk  a  little  expo 
sure,  or  act  in  the  dark." 

"  You  are  a  soldier's  daughter,  Maud" — This  was  as  true 
of  major  Meredith  as  of  captain  Willoughby,  and  might 
therefore  be  freely  said  by  even  Bob — "  You  are  a  soldier's 
daughter,  and  nature  has  clearly  intended  you  to  be  a  sol 
dier's  wife.  This  is  a  covp-d'-ceil  not  to  be  despised." 

"  I  shall  never  be  a  wife  at  all" — murmured  Maud,  scarce 
knowing  what  she  said ;  "  I  may  not  live  to  be  a  soldier's 
daughter,  even,  much  longer.  But,  why  are  you  here  ?  — 
surely,  surely  you  can  have  no  connection  with  those  sa 
vages  ! — I  have  heard  of  such  horrors  ;  but  you  would  not 
accompany  them,  even  though  it  were  to  protect  the  Hut." 

"  I  '11  not  answer  for  that,  Maud.  One  would  do  a  great 
deal  to  preserve  his  paternal  dwelling  from  pillage,  and  his 
father's  grey  hairs  from  violence.  But  I  came  alone  ;  that 
party  and  its  objects  being  utterly  strangers  to  me." 

"  And  why  do  you  come  at  all,  Bob  ?"  inquired  the  anxious 
girl,  looking  up  into  his  face  with  open  affection  —  "  The 
situation  of  the  country  is  now  such,  as  to  make  your  visits 
very  hazardous." 

"  Who  could  know  the  regular  major  in  this  hunting- 
shirt,  and  forest  garb?  I  have  not  an  article  about  my  per 
son  to  betray  me,  even  were  I  before  a  court.  No  fear  for 
me  then,  Maud ;  unless  it  be  from  these  demons  in  human 
shape,  the  savages.  Even  they  do  not  seem  to  be  very 
fiercely  inclined,  as  they  appear  at  this  moment  more  dis 
posed  to  eat,  than  to  attack  the  Hut.  Look  for  yourself; 
those  fellows  are  certainly  preparing  to  take  their  food ;  the 
group  that  is  just  now  coming  over  the  cliffs,  is  dragging  a 
deer  after  it." 

Maud  took  the  glass,  though  with  an  unsteady  hand,  and 
she  looked  a  moment  at  the  savages.  The  manner  in  which 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  181 

the  instrument  brought  these  wild  beings  nearer  to  her  eye, 
'•d  her  to  shudder,  and  six.-  was  soon  satisfied. 

"That  deer  was  killed  this  morning  by  the  miller,"  she 

said;  "they  ht\<-  doubtless  found  it  in  or  near  his  cabin. 

We  will  be  thankful,  however,  for  this  breathing-time  —  it 

ni  u-  enab:  father  to  got  up  the  other  gate.    Look, 

',  and  sec  what  progress  they  make?" 

'•  One  side  is  just  hung,  and  much  joy  does  it  produce 
among  them !  Persevere,  my  noble  old  father,  and  you  will 
soon  be  safe  against  your  enemies.  What  a  calm  and  steady 
air  he  has,  amid  it  alii  Ah  !  .Maud,  I  lugh  \Villoughby  ought, 
at  this  moment,  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  brigade,  helping  to 
suppress  this  accursed  and  unnatural  rebellion.  Nay,  more  ; 
he  may  be  there,  if  lie  will  only  listen  to  reason  and  duty." 

"And  this  is  then  your  errand  here,  Bob?"  asked  "his 
fair  companion,  gazing  earnestly  at  the  major. 

"  It  is,  Maud — and  1  hope  you,  whose  feelings  I  know  to 
be  right,  can  encourage  me  to  hope." 

44 1  li-ar  not.  It  is  now  too  late.  Beulah's  marriage  with 
h  is  strengthened  his  opinions — and  then " 

44  What,  dearest  .Maud  ?  You  'pause  as  if  that  «  then?  had 
:iing  you  hesitated  to  ex: 

Maud  coloured ;  after  which  she  smiled  faintly,  and  pro 
ceeded  : 

u  U'c  should  speak  reverently  of  a  father  —  and  such  a 
father,  too.  But  does  it  not  seem  probable  to  you,  Bob,  tint 
the  many  discussions  he  has  with  Mr.  Woods  may  have  a 
tendency  to  confirm  each  in  his  notions?" 

Robert  Willoughby  would  have  answered  in  the  affirma 
tive,  had  not  a  sudden  movement  at  the  Hut  prevented. 


182  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

From  Flodden  ridge 
The  Scots  beheld  the  English  host 
Leave  Barmore  wood,  their  evening1  post, 
And  heedful  watched  them  as  they  crossed 

The  Till  by  Twisal  Bridge. 

SCOTT. 

IT  was  just  at  this  instant  that  most  of  the  women  of  the 
settlement  rushed  from  the  court,  and  spread  themselves 
within  the  stockade,  Mrs.  Willoughby  and  Beulah  being 
foremost  in  the  movement.  The  captain  left  the  gate,  too, 
and  even  the  men,  who  were  just  about  to  raise  the  last 
leaf,  suspended  their  toil.  It  was  quite  apparent  some  new 
cause  for  uneasiness  or  alarm  had  suddenly  awoke  among 
them.  Still  the  stack  of  arms  remained  untouched,  nor  was 
there  any  new  demonstration  among  the  Indians.  The 
major  watched  everything,  with  intense  attention,  through 
the  glass. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  Bob  ?"  demanded  the  anxious  Maud. 
"  I  see  rny  dearest  mother — she  seems  alarmed." 

"  Was  it  known  to  her  that  you  were  about  to  quit  the 
house,  when  you  came  out  on  this  walk  ?" 

"  I  rather  think  not.  She  and  Beulah  were  in  the  nursery 
with  little  Evert,  and  my  father  was  in  the  fields.  I  came 
out  without  speaking  to  any  person,  nor  did  I  meet  any  be 
fore  entering  the  forest." 

"  Then  you  are  now  first  missed.  Yes,  that  is  it  —  and 
no  wonder,  Maud,  it  creates  alarm.  Merciful  God  !  How 
must  they  all  feel,  at  a  moment  like  this  !" 

"  Fire  your  rifle,  Bob — that  will  draw  their  eyes  in  this 
direction,  and  I  will  wave  my  handkerchief — perhaps  that 
might  be  seen.  Beulah  has  received  such  signals  from  me, 
before." 

"  It  would  never  do.  No,  we  must  remain  concealed, 
watching  their  movements,  in  order  to  be  able  to  aid  them 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  183 

at  the  proper  time.     It  is  painful  to  endure  this  sus;> 
ln'Nond  a  d- >u  hi;  but  the  j»ain  must  be  borne  in  order  to 
ensure  the  saii-ty  of  one  \vho  is  so  very,  very  precious  to 
us  all." 

Notwithstanding  the*  fearful  situation  in  which   she  was 

;,  .Maud  felt  soothed  by  these  words.     The  language 

of  ailed  ion,  as  coming  from  Robert  \Villoughby,  was  vry 

>  her  at  all  times,  and  never  more  than  at  a  moment 

when  it  appeared  that  even  her  life  was  suspended,  as  it 

miiiiit  be,  by  a  hair. 

"  It  is  as  you  say,"  she  answered  gently,  giving  him  her 
hand  with  much  of  her  ancient  frankness  of  manner;  "  we 
should  be  i  md  of  course  lost — but  what  means  the 

movement  at  the  Hut?" 

There  was  indeed  a  movement  within  the  stockade. 
Maud's  absence  was  now  clearly  ascertained,  and  it  is  need 
less  to  describe  the  commotion  the  circumstance  produced. 
No  one  thought  any  longer  of  the  half  of  the  gate  that  still 
remained  to  be  hung,  but  every  supposable  part  of  the  house 
and  enclosure  had  been  examined  in  quest  of  her  who  was 
missing.  Our  heroine's  last  remark,  however,  was  pro 
duced  by  certain  indications  of  an  intention  to  make  a  de 
scent  from  one  of  the  external  windows  of  the  common 
parlour,  a  room  it  will  be  remembered  that  stood  on  the 
little  cliff,  above  the  rivulet  that  wound  beneath  its  base. 
This  clilF  was  about  forty  feet  high,  and  though  it  offered  a 
formidable  obstacle  to  any  attempt  to  scale  it,  there  was  no 
great  difficulty  in  an  active  man's  descending,  aided  by  a 
rope.  The  spot,  too,  was  completely  concealed  from  the 
view  of  the  party  which  still  remained  on  the  rock,  near  the 
mill,  at  a  distance  of  quite  half  a  mile  from  the  gates  of  the 
stoekade.  This  fact  greatly  facilitated  the  little  sortie,  since, 
once  in  the  bed  of  the  rivulet,  which  was  fringed  with  hush'"*, 
it  would  be  very  practicable,  by  following  its  windin 
Lrain  the  forest  unseen.  The  major  levelled  his  ijlass  at  the 
windows,  and  immediately  saw  the  truth  of  all  that  has  here 
be.'ii  mentioned. 

"  They  are  preparing  to  send  a  party  out,"  he  said,  "  and 
doubtless  in  quest  of  you,  Maud.  The  thing  is  very  feasible, 
provided  the  savages  remain  much  longer  in  their  pr 
position.     It  is  matter  of  surprise  to  me,  that  the  last  have 


184  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

not  sent  a  force  in  the  rear  of  the  Hut,  where  the  windows 
are  at  least  exposed  to  fire,  and  the  forest  is  so  close  as  to 
afford  a  cover  to  the  assailants.  In  front  there  is  literally 
none,  but  a  few  low  fences,  which  is  the  reason  I  presume 
that  they  keep  so  much  aloof." 

"  It  is  not  probable  they  know  the  valley.  With  the  ex 
ception  of  Nick,  but  few  Indians  have  ever  visited  us,  and 
that  rarely.  Those  we  have  seen  have  all  been  of  the  most 
peaceable  and  friendly  tribes ;  not  a  true  warrior,  as  my 
father  says,  ever  having  been  found  among  them.  Nick  is 
the  only  one  of  them  all  that  can  thus  be  termed." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  fellow  has  led  this  party  ?  I  have  never 
more  than  half  confided  in  him,  and  yet  he  is  too  old  a  friend 
of  the  family,  I  should  think,  to  be  guilty  of  such  an  act  of 
baseness." 

"  My  father  thinks  him  a  knave,  but  I  question  if  he  has 
an  opinion  of  him  as  bad  as  that.  Besides,  he  knows  the 
valley,  and  would  have  led  the  Indians  round  into  the  rear 
of  the  house,  if  it  be  a  place  so  much  more  favourable  for 
the  attack,  as  you  suppose.  These  wretches  have  come  by 
the  common  paths,  all  of  which  first  strike  the  river,  as  you 
know,  below  the  mills." 

"  That  is  true.  I  lost  my  way,  a  few  miles  from  this,  the 
path  being  very  blind  on  the  eastern  route,  which  I  travelled 
as  having  gone  it  last  with  Nick,  and  thinking  it  the  safest. 
Fortunately  I  recognised  the  crest  of  this  mountain  above 
us,  by  its  shape,  or  I  might  never  have  found  my  way  ;  al 
though  the  streams,  when  struck,  are  certain  guides  to  the 
woodsman.  As  soon  as  I  hit  the  cow-paths,  I  knew  they 
would  lead  me  to  the  barns  and  sheds.  See !  a  man  is 
actually  descending  from  a  window  !" 

"  Oh !  Bob,  I  hope  it  is  not  my  father !  He  is  too  old — it 
is  risking  too  much  to  let  him  quit  the  house." 

"  I  will  tell  you  better  when  he  reaches  the  ground.  Un 
less  mistaken — ay — it  is  the  Irishman,  O'Hearn." 

"  Honest  Mike  !  He  is  always  foremost  in  everything, 
though  he  so  little  knows  how  anything  but  digging  ought 
to  be  done.  Is  there  not  another  following  him — or  am  I 
deceived  ?" 

';  There  is— -he  has  just  reached  the  ground,  too.  This 
might  be  spared,  did  they  know  how  well  you  are  guarded, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  185 

Maud.     By  one  ul:o  \\nuM  die  cheerfully  to  prevent  harm 
from  reaching   . 

"They  ,  :i  of  that,  Bob,"  answered  Maud,  in  a 

low  t<uie.     ••  ,\ot  a  human  bcinu  in  that  valley  fancies  you 

r  to  him  than  the-  royal  armies  are,  at  tins  moment. 

But  they  do  not  s«-ml  a  third — 1  am  glad  they  weaken  their 

own  force  no  furtl, 

"  It  is  certainly  best  they  should  not.  The  men  had  their 
rill,  s  s,lung  when  they  descended,  and  they  are  now  getting 
th'-in  ready  for  service.  It  is  Joel  Strides  who  is  with 
Mike/' 

"  1  am  sorry  for  it.  That  is  a  man  I  little  like,  Bob,  and 
I  should  be  sorry  he  knew  of  your  being  here." 

This  was  fcauj  quickly,  and  with  a  decree  of  feeling  that 
surprised  the  major,  who  questioned  Maud  earnestly  as  to 
her  meaning  and  its  reasons.  The  latter  told  him  she  scarce 
herself;  that  she  disliked  the  man's  manner,  had  long 
thought  liis  principles  bad,  and  that  Mike  in  his  extraordi 
nary  way  had  said  certain  things  to  her,  to  awaken  distrust. 

"  Mike  speaks  in  hieroglyphics,"  said  the  major,  laughing, 
in  spite  of  the  serious  situation  in  which  he  and  his  compa 
nion  wen-  placed,  "and  one  must  never  be  too  sure  of  Ids 
meaning.  Joel  has  now  been  many  years  with  my  father, 
and  he  seems  to  enjoy  his  confidence." 

"  lie  makes  himself  useful,  and  is  very  guarded  in  what 
he  says  at  the  Hut.  Still — I  wish  him  not  to  know  of  your 

here." 

It  will  not  be  easy  to  prevent  it,  Maud.  I  should  have 
come  boldly  into  the  valley,  but  for  this  accidental  meeting 
with  you,  trusting  that  my  father  has  no  one  about  him  so 
base  as  to  betray  his  son." 

"  Trust  not  Joel  Strides.  I  '11  answer  for  Mike  with  my 
life ;  but  sorry  indeed  should  I  be  that  Joel  Strides  knew  of 
your  being  among  us.  It  were  better,  perhcrps,  that  most 
of  the  workmen  should  not  be  in  the  secret.  See — the  two 
men  are  quitting  the  foot  of  the  rocks." 

This  was  true,  and  Robert  Willoughby  watched  their 
movements  with  th>  j  .  As  Iiad  Ix-en  <-.\|>r "ted,  they 
first  d'-scend.-d  into  the  l>ed  of  the  rivulet,  wading  along  its 
shore,  under  the  cover  of  the  bushes,  until  they  soon  became 
concealed  even  from  the  view  of  one  placed  on  a  height  as 
16* 


186  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

elevated  as  that  occupied  by  Robert  and  Maud.  It  was 
sufficiently  apparent,  however,  that  their  intention  was  to 
reach  the  forest  in  this  manner,  when  they  would  probably 
commence  their  search  for  the  missing  young  lady.  Nor 
was  it  long  before  Robert  and  Maud  plainly  saw  the  two 
adventurers  quit  the  bed  of  the  stream  and  bury  themselves 
in  the  forest.  The  question  now  seriously  arose  as  to  the 
best  course  for  the  major  and  his  companion  to  pursue. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances,  it  would  have  been  wisest, 
perhaps,  to  descend  at  once  and  meet  the  messengers,  who 
might  soon  be  found  at  some  of  the  usual  haunts  of  the  girl ; 
but  against  this  the  latter  so  earnestly  protested,  and  that  in 
a  manner  so  soothing  to  the  young  man's  feelings,  that  he 
scarce  knew  how  to  oppose  her  wishes.  She  implored  him 
not  to  confide  in  Joel  Strides  too  hastily,  at  least.  It  might 
be  time  enough,  when  there  was  no  alternative ;  until  the 
true  character  of  the  party  then  in  the  valley  was  known, 
it  would  be  premature.  Nothing  was  easiev  than  to  conceal 
himself  until  it  was  dark,  when  he  might  approach  the  Hut, 
and  be  admitted  without  his  presence  being  known  to  any 
but  those  on  whom  the  family  could  certainly  rely.  The 
major  urged  the  impossibility  of  his  quitting  Maud,  until 
she  was  joined  by  the  two  men  sent  in  quest  of  her,  and 
then  it  would  be  too  late,  as  he  must  be  seen.  Although  he 
might  escape  immediate  recognition  in  his  present  dress,  the 
presence  of  a  stranger  would  excite  suspicions,  and  compel 
an  explanation.  To  this  Maud  replied  in  the  following 
manner :  Her  customary  places  of  resort,  when  in  the 
woods,  were  well  known  ;  more  especially  to  Michael,  who 
was  frequently  employed  in  their  vicinity.  These  were  a 
little  water-fall,  that  was  situated  a  hundred  rods  up  the 
rivulet,  to  which  a  path  had  been  made  expressly,  and  where 
an  arbour,  seat,  and  little  table  had  been  arranged,  for  the 
purposes  of  Working,  reading,  or  taking  refreshments.  To 
this  spot  the  men  would  unquestionably  proceed  first.  Then, 
there  was  a  deep  ravine,  some  distance  farther,  that  was 
often  visited  for  its  savage  beauty,  and  whither  she  more 
frequently  went,  perhaps,  than  to  any  other  place.  Thither 
Michael  would  be  certain  to  lead  his  companion.  These 
two  places  visited,  they  might  infallibly  expect  to  see  the 
men  at  the  rock,  where  the  two  were  then  seated,  as  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  187 

last  spot  in  which  Maud  might  naturally  bo  expected  (o  1><; 
found.  It  \vou!d  require  an  hour  t«>  visit  the  two  places  first 
numed,  and  to  examine  the  surrounding  woods  ;  and  I  v  that 
time,  not  only  would  the  sun  hi-  set,  but  the  twilight  would 
be  disappearing.  I  ntii  that  moment,  then,  the  major  might 
remain  at  her  side,  and  on  the  sound  of  the  approaching 
footsteps  of  ill--  rs,  h  •  hud  only  to  retire  bcliind  a 

;  -tion  of  the  rocks,  and  afterwards  follow  towards  the 
Knoll,  at  a  sail'  distance. 

This  plan  was  too  plausible  to  be  rejected  ;  and  giving 
Robert  an  hour  of  uninterrupted  discourse  with  his  c 
nion,  it  struck  him  as  having  more  advantages  than  any 
other  mentioned.  The  party  near  the  mills,  too,  remaining 
perfectly  quiet,  there  was  less  occasion  for  any  change  of 
th"ir  own,  than  might  otherwise  have  been  the  case.  So 
far,  indeed,  from  appearing  to  entertain  any  hostile  invn- 
tion,  not  a  cabin  had  been  injured,  if  approached,  and  the 
smoke  of  the  conflagration  which  had  been  exp'-eted  to  rise 
from  the  mills  and  the  habitations  in  the  glen,  did  not  make 
i's  appearance.  If  any  such  ruthless  acts  as  applying  the 
brand  and  assaulting  the  people  were  in  contemplation,  they 
it  least  delayed  until  night  should  veil  them  in  a  fitting 
darkness. 

It  is  always  a  great  relief  to  the  mind,  in  moments  of  trial, 
to  have  decided  on  a  course  of  future  action.  So  the  major 
and  Maud  now  found;  for,  taking  his  seat  by  her  si<!  . 
began  to  converse  with  his  companion  more  connectedly, 
and  with  greater  calmness  than  either  had  yet  been  able  to 
achieve.  Many  questions  were  asked,  and  answers  given, 
concerning  the  state  of  the  family,  that  of  his  fath'-r  an  I 
mother,  and  dear  Beulah  and  her  infant,  the  latter  being  as 
yt-t  quite  a  stranger  to  the  young  soldier. 

';  Is  he  like  his  rebel  of  a  fath'-r  !''  asked  the  royal  officer, 

smiling,  but  as  his  companion  fancied,  painfully;  "or  has 

he  more  of  the  look  of  the  Willoughbys.     He<-kman  is  a 

good-looking  Dutchman;  yet,  I  would  rather  have  the  boy 

nble  the  good  old  English  stork,  after  all." 

"Th«'s\v<'  t  lit'!,.  .  ,-h   lather  and   mo. 

ther;  though  the  first  the   m  •  at  d«'Iiuhf. 

Papa  says  h"  is  true  'Holland's  come  of,'  as  they  call  if, 
though  neither  mamma  nor  I  will  allow  of  any  such  thing. 


188  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Colonel  Beekman  is  a  very  worthy  man,  Bob,  and  a  most 
affectionate  and  attentive  husband.  Beulah,  but  for  this 
war,  could  not  be  happier." 

"  Then  I  forgive  him  one-half  of  his  treason — for  the  re 
mainder  let  him  take  his  luck.  Now  I  am  an  uncle,  my 
heart  begins  to  melt  a  little  towards  the  rebel.  And  you, 
Maud,  how  do  the  honours  of  an  aunt  sit  upon  your  feel 
ings  ?  But  women  are  all  heart,  and  would  love  a  rat." 

Maud  smiled,  but  she  answered  not.  Though  Beulah's 
child  were  almost  as  dear  to  her  as  one  of  her  own  could 
have  been,  she  remembered  that  she  was  not  its  aunt,  in 
fact ;  and,  though  she  knew  not  why,  in  that  company,  and 
even  at  that  grave  moment,  the  obtrusive  thought  summon 
ed  a  bright  flush  to  her  cheeks.  The  major  probably  did 
not  notice  this  change  of  countenance,  since,  after  a  short 
pause,  he  continued  the  conversation  naturally. 

"The  child  is  called  Evert,  is  it  not,  aunt  Maud?"  he 
asked,  laying  an  emphasis  on  '  aunt.' 

Maud  wished  this  word  had  not  been  used  ;  and  yet  Ro 
bert  Willoughby,  could  the  truth  have  been  known,  had 
adverted  to  it  with  an  association  in  his  own  mind,  that 
would  have  distressed  her,  just  then,  still  more.  Aunt  Maud 
was  the  name  that  others,  however,  were  most  fond  of  adopt 
ing,  since  the  birth  of  the  child  ;  and  remembering  this,  our 
heroine  smiled. 

"  That  is  what  Beulah  has  called  me,  these  six  months," 
she  said — "  or  ever  since  Evert  was  born.  I  became  an 
aunt  the  day  he  became  a  nephew ;  and  dear,  good  Beulah 
has  not  once  called  me  sister  since,  I  think." 

"  These  little  creatures  introduce  new  ties  into  families," 
answered  the  major,  thoughtfully.  "  They  take  the  places 
of  the  generations  before  them,  and  edge  us  out  of  our  hold 
on  the  affections,  as  in  the  end  they  supplant  us  in  our 
stations  in  life;  If  Beulah  love  me  only  as  an  uncle,  how 
ever,  she  may  look  to  it.  I  '11  be  supplanted  by  no  Dutch 
man's  child  that  was  ever  born  !" 

"  FO?/,  Bob !"  cried  Maud,  starting.  "  You  are  its  real 
uncle ;  Beulah  must  ever  remember  you>  and  love  you,  as 
her  own  brother !" 

Maud's  voice  became  suddenly  hushed,  like  one  who  fear 
ed  she  had  said  too  much.  The  major  gazed  at  her  intently, 


TUB     HUTTED     KNOLL.  ISO 

but  he  spoke  not;  nor  did  his  companion  see  his  Ion! 
uun  ryes  being  ca>t  iiM'kly  and  tivmMin^ly  on  the  earth  at 
her  feet.     A  considerable  pans.-  succeeded,   and   then  the 
conversation  reverted  to  what  \\as  going  on  in  the  valley. 

The  sun  was  no\v  set,  and  the  shadows  of  evening  IM'LMII 
;.  ler  objects  a  little  indistinct  beneath  them.  Btill  it 
was  apparent  that  much  anxiety  prevailed  in  and  about  the 
Hut,  doubtless  on  account  of  our  heroine's  absence.  So 
jrrrat  was  it,  indeed,  as  entirely  to  supersede  the  hanging 
of  the  remaining  leaf  of  the  gate,  which  stood  in  the  gap 
where  it  belonged,  stayed  by  pieces  of  limber,  but  unhung. 
Th ••  major  thought  some  disposition  had  been  made,  how 
ever,  by  which  the  inmates  might  pass  and  repass  by  the 
half  that  was  suspended,  making  a  tolerable  defence,  when 
all  was  c!< 

*•  Hist !"  whispered  Maud,  whose  faculties  were  quickened 
by  the  danger  of  her  companion  ;  "  I  hear  the  voice  of  Mi- 
chael,  and  they  approach.  No  sense  of  danger  can  repress 
poor  O'Hearn's  eloquence;  his  ideas  seeming  to  flow  from 
his  tongue  very  much  as  they  rise  to  his  thoughts,  chance 
directing  which  shall  appear  first." 

"  It  is  true,  dear  girl ;  and  as  you  seem  so  strongly  to 
wish  it,  I  will  withdraw.  Depend  on  my  keeping  near" you, 
and  on  my  presence,  should  it  be  required." 

"  Vou  will  not  forget  to  come  beneath  the  windows,  Bob," 
said  Maud,  anxiously,  but  in  great  haste ;  for  the  footsteps 
of  the  men  drew  rapidly  near;  "at  the  very  spot  where  the 
others  descended." 

The  major  bent  forward  and  kissed  a  cheek  that  was 
chilled  with  apprehension,  but  which  the  act  caused  to  burn 
like  fire;  then  he  disappeared  behind  the  projection  of  rock 
he  had  himself  pointed  out.  As  for  Maud,  she  sate  in  seem 
ing  composure,  awaiting  the  approach  of  those  who  drew 


near. 


The  divil  bur-r-n  me,  and  nil  the  Injins  in  Anif-riky 
along  wid  me,"  said  Miko.  scrambling  up  the  n 
shortcut,  "but  I  think  we'll  find  the  young  .Mi^;i>,  h-'r*-, 
or  I  don't  think  we'll   be  finding  her  the  niuht.      ; 
rursrd  couQthry  to  live  in,  Misther  Strides,  where  a  youn" 
lady  of  the  loveliness  and  pithiful  beauty  of  Miss  .Maud  can 


190  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

be  lust  in  the  woods,  as  it  might  be  a  sheep  or  a  stray  baste 
that  was  for  tasting  the  neighbour's  pastures." 

"  You  speak  too  loud,  Mike,  and  you  speak  foolishness 
into  the  bargain,"  returned  the  wary  Joel. 

"  Is  it  I,  you  mane !  Och  !  don't  think  ye  're  goin'  to  set 
me  a  rowin'  a  boat  once  more,  ag'in  my  inclinations  and 
edication,  as  ye  did  in  ould  limes.  I  've  rung  ye  into  yer 
ma'tin',  and  out  of  yer  m'atin',  too,  twenty  times  too  often 
to  be  catched  in  that  same  trap  twice.  It 's  Miss  Maud  I 

wants,   and  Miss  Maud  I  '11  find,  or Lord  bless  her 

swate  face  and  morals,  and  her  chamcfcter,  and  all  belong 
ing  to  her ! — isn't  that,  now,  a  prathy  composure  for  the 
likes  of  her,  and  the  savages  at  the  mill,  and  the  Missus  in 
tears,  and  the  masther  mighty  un'asy,  and  all  of  us  bother 
ed  !  See  how  she  sits  on  that  bit  of  a  sate  that  I  puts  there 
for  her  wid  my  own  hands,  as  a  laddy  should,  looking  jist 
what  she  is,  the  quane  of  the  woods,  and  the  delight  of  our 
eyes !" 

Maud  was  too  much  accustomed  to  the  rhapsodies  of  the 
county  Leitrim-man  to  think  much  of  this  commencement ; 
but  resolute  to  act  her  part  with  discretion,  she  rose  to  meet 
him,  speaking  with  great  apparent  self-possession. 

"  Is  it  possible  you  are  in  quest  of  me?"  she  said — "why 
has  this  happened  ? — I  usually  return  about  this  hour." 

"  Hoors  is  it !  Don't  talk  of  hoors,  beauthiful  young  laddy, 
when  a  single  quarther  may  be  too  late,"  answered  Mike, 
dogmatically.  "  It 's  your  own  mother  that 's  not  happy  at 
yer  being  in  the  woods  the  night,  and  yer  ould  father  that 
has  moore  un'asiness  than  he  '11  confess ;  long  life  to  the 
church  in  which  confession  is  held  to  be  right,  and  dacent, 
and  accorthing  to  the  gospel  of  St.  Luke,  and  the  whole 
calender  in  the  bargain.  Ye  '11  not  be  frightened,  Miss 
Maud,  but  take  what  I  've  to  tell  ye  jist  as  if  ye  didn't  bel'ave 
a  wo-r-r-d  of  it ;  but,  divil  bur-r-n  me,  if  there  arn't  Injins 
enough  on  the  rocks,  forenent  the  mill,  to  scalp  a  whole 
province,  and  a  county  along  wid  it,  if  ye  '11  give  'em  time 
and  knives  enough." 

"  I  understand  you,  Michael,  but  am  not  in  the  least 
alarmed,"  answered  Maud,  with  an  air  of  great  steadiness ; 
such,  indeed,  as  would  have  delighted  the  captain.  "  Some 
thing  of  what  has  been  passing  below  have  I  seen  j  but,  by 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  191 

bt-ing  calm  and  reasonable,  wo  shall  escape  the  dan^iT. 
Tell  mo  only,  that  all  is  sale  in  the  Hut — that  my  dear  mo 
ther  and  sister  are  uell." 

"  Is  it  the  .Missus  ?  Och,  she's  as  valiant  as  a  ]>< -acock, 
only  striek  duwn  and  overcome  about  your  own  self!  As 
lor  Miss  Beuly,  where 's  the  likes  of  her  to  be  found,  unless 
it's  on  this  same  bit  of  a  rock  .'  And  it 's  ajjraable  to  see 
the  captain,  looking  for  all  the  wor-r-ld  like  a  commander- 
in-ch:tif  of  six  or  eight  rijiments,  ordering  one  this-a-\vav, 
and  another  that-a-way — By  St.  Patrick,  young  laddy,  I 
only  hopes  them  vagabonds  will  come  on  as  soon  as  your 
self  is  inside  the  sticks,  jist  to  give  the  ould  jontlcman  a 
better  occasion  to  play  souldier  on  'em.  Should  they  happen 
to  climb  over  the  sticks,  I  've  got  the  prattiest  bit  of  a  shil- 
lak'h  ready  that  mortal  eyes  iver  adorned  !  'Tvvould  break 
a  head  and  niver  a  hat  harmed  —  a  thousand's  the  pities 
tii-  ;n  rhaps  wears  no  hats.  Howsever,  we'll  see." 

"  Thank  you,  Mike,  for  the  courage  you  show,  and  the 
interest  you  take  in  all  our  welfares — Is  it  not  too  soon  to 
venture  down  upon  the  flats,  Joel  ?  I  must  trust  to  you  as  a 
guide." 

"  I  think  Miss  Maud  would  do  full  as  well  if  she  did. 
Mike  must  be  told,  too,  not  to  talk  so  much,  and  above  all, 
not  to  speak  so  loud.  He  may  be  heard,  sometimes,  a  dozen 
rods." 

"  Tould  !"  exclaimed  the  county  Leitrim-man,  in  heat  — 
"And  isn't  tould  I  've  been  twenty  times  already,  by  your 
own  smooth  conversation?  Where's  the  occasion  to  tell  a 
thing  over  and  over  ag'in,  when  a  man  is  not  wanting  in 
ears.  It's  the  likes  of  you  that  loves  to  convarse." 

4'  Well,  Mike,  for  my  sake,  you  will  be  silent,  I  hope," 
said  Maud.  "  Remember,  I  am  not  fitted  for  a  battle,  and 
the  first  thing  is  to  get  safely  into  the  house.  The  sooner 
we  are  down  the  hill,  perhaps,  the  better  it  may  be.  Lead 
the  way,  then,  Joel,  and  I  will  follow.  Michaol  will  go  next 
to  you,  in  readiness  for  any  enemy,  and  I  will  bring  up  the 
rear.  It  will  be  better  for  all  to  keep  a  dead  silence,  until  it 
be  necessary  to  speak." 

This  arrangement  was  made,  and  the  party  proceeded, 
Maud  remaining  a  little  behind,  in  order  that  the  major 
might  catch  glimpses  of  her  person,  in  the  sombre  light  jf 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

the  hour  and  the  forest,  and  not  miss  the  road.  A  few 
minutes  brought  them  all  upon  the  level  land,  where,  Joel, 
instead  of  entering  the  open  fields,  inclined  more  into  the 
woods,  always  keeping  one  of  the  many  paths.  His  object 
was  to  cross  the  rivulet  under  cover,  a  suitable  place  offer 
ing  a  short  distance  from  the  point  where  the  stream  glided 
out  of  the  forest.  Towards  this  spot  Joel  quietly  held  his 
way,  occasionally  stopping  to  listen  if  any  movement  of  im 
portance  had  occurred  on  the  flats.  As  for  Maud,  her  eyes 
were  frequently  cast  behind  her,  for  she  was  fearful  Robert 
Willoughby  might  miss  the  path,  having  so  little  acquaint 
ance  with  the  thousand  sinuosities  he  encountered.  She 
caught  glimpses  of  his  person,  however,  in  the  distance,  and 
saw  that  he  was  on  the  right  track.  Her  chief  concern, 
therefore,  soon  became  an  anxiety  that  he  should  not  be 
seen  by  her  companions.  As  they  kept  a  little  in  advance, 
and  the  underbrush  was  somewhat  thick,  she  had  strong 
hopes  that  this  evil  would  be  avoided. 

The  path  being  very  circuitous,  it  took  some  time  to  reach 
the  spot  Joel  sought.  Here  he,  Mike,  and  Maud,  crossed 
the  rivulet  on  a  tree  that  had  been  felled  expressly  to  answer 
the  purposes  of  a  rustic  foot-bridge ;  a  common  expedient 
of  the  American  forest.  As  our  heroine  had  often  performed 
this  exploit  when  alone,  she  required  no  assistance,  and  she 
felt  as  if  half  the  danger  of  her  critical  situation  had  vanish 
ed,  when  she  found  herself  on  the  same  side  of  the  stream 
as  the  Hut.  Joel,  nothing  suspecting,  and  keeping  all  his 
faculties  on  the  sounds  and  sights  that  might  occur  in  front, 
led  the  way  diligently,  and  soon  reached  the  verge  of  the 
woods.  Here  he  paused  for  his  companions  to  join  him. 

Twilight  had,  by  this  time,  nearly  disappeared.  Still, 
enough  remained  to  enable  Maud  to  perceive  that  many 
were  watching  for  her,  either  at  the  windows  above  the 
cliff,  or  through  different  parts  of  the  stockades.  The  distance 
was  so  small,  that  it  might  have  been  possible,  by  raising 
the  voice,  even  to  converse ;  but  this  would  be  an  experi 
ment  too  hazardous,  as  some  hostile  scouts,  at  that  hour, 
might  very  well  be  fearfully  near. 

"  I  see  nothing,  Miss  Maud,"  observed  Joel,  after  taking  a 
good  look  around  him.  "  By  keeping  the  path  that  follows 
the  edge  of  the  brook,  though  it  is  so  crooked,  we  shall  be 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  193 

certain  of  good  walking,  and  shall  be  half  hid  by  the  bushes. 
It's  best  to  walk  quick,  and  to  be  silent." 

Maud  bade  him  go  on,  waiting  herself  behind  a  tree,  to 
let  the  two  men  precede  her  a  short  distance.  This  was 
done,  and  the  major  stole  up  to  her  side  unseen.  A  few 
words  of  explanation  passed,  when  the  young  lady  ran  after 
her  guides,  leaving  Robert  Willoughby  seated  on  a  log.  It 
was  a  breathless  moment  to  Maud,  that  in  which  she  was 
passing  this  bit  of  open  land.  But  the  distance  was  so  short, 
that  it  was  soon  gotten  over ;  and  the  three  found  themselves 
beneath  the  cliff.  Here  they  passed  the  spring,  and  follow 
ing  a  path  which  led  from  it,  turned  the  edge  of  the  rocks, 
and  ascended  to  the  foot  of  the  stockades.  It  remained  to 
turn  these  also,  in  order  to  reach  the  so  recently  suspended 
gates.  As  Maud  passed  swiftly  along,  almost  brushing  the 
timbers  with  her  dress,  she  saw,  in  the  dim  light,  fifty  faces 
looking  at  her,  and  thrust  between  the  timbers ;  but  she 
paused  not,  spoke  not  —  scarcely  breathed.  A  profound 
stillness  reigned  on  the  Knoll,;  but  when  Joel  arrived  at  the 
gate,  it  was  instantly  opened^  and  he  glided  in.  Not  so 
with  Mike,  who  stopped  and  waited  until  she  he  had  been 
in  quest  of  entered  before  him,  and  was  in  safety. 

Maud  found  herself  in  her  mother's  arms,  the  instant  the 
gate  was  passed.  Mrs.  Willoughby  had  been  at  the  angle 
of  the  cliff,  had  followed  her  child,  in  her  swift  progress 
round  the  stockade,  and  was  ready  to  receive  her,  the  mo 
ment  she  entered.  Beulah  came  next,  and  then  the  captain 
embraced,  kissed,  wept  over,  and  scolded  his  little  favourite. 

"  No  reproaches  now,  Hugh" — said  the  more  considerate 
wife,  and  gentle  woman — "  Maud  has  done  no  more  than 
has  long  been  her  custom,  and  no  one  could  have  foreseen 
what  has  happened." 

"  Mother — father" — said  Maud,  almost  gasping  for  breath 
— "  let  us  bless  God  for  my  safety,  and  for  the  safety  of  all 
that  are  dear  to  us — thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Woods — there  is 
a  kiss,  to  thank  you — now  let  us  go  into  the  house;  I  have 
much  to  tell  you — come  dear  sir — come  dearest  mother,  do 
not  lose  a  moment ;  let  us  all  go  to  the  library." 

As  this  was  the  room  in  which  the  family  devotions  were 
usually  held,  the  auditors  fancied  the  excited  girl  wished  to 
return  her  thanks  in  that  mode,  one  not  unfrequent  in  that 

VOL.  I.— 17 


194  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

regulated  family,  and  all  followed  her,  who  dared,  with 
tender  sympathy  in  her  feelings,  and  profoundly  grateful 
for  her  safety.  As  soon  as  in  the  room,  Maud  carefully 
shut  the  door,  and  went  from  one  to  another,  in  order  to 
ascertain  who  were  present.  Finding  none  but  her  father, 
mother,  sister,  and  the  chaplain,  she  instantly  related  all 
that  had  passed,  and  pointed  out  the  spot  where  the  major 
was,  at  that  moment,  waiting  for  the  signal  to  approach.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  the  astonishment  and  delight, 
mingled  with  concern,  that  this  intelligence  produced. 

Maud  then  rapidly  recounted  her  plan,  and  implored  her 
father  to  see  it  executed.  The  captain  had  none  of  her  ap 
prehensions  on  the  subject  of  his  people's  fidelity,  but  he 
yielded  to  the  girl's  earnest  entreaties.  Mrs.  Willoughby 
was  so  agitated  with  all  the  unlooked-for  events  of  the  day, 
that  she  joined  her  daughter  in  the  request,  and  Maud  was 
told  to  proceed  with  the  affair,  in  her  own  way. 

A  lamp  was  brought,  and  placed  by  Maud  in  a  pantry 
that  was  lighted  by  a  single,  long,  narrow,  external  window, 
at  the  angle  of  the  building  next  the  offices,  and  the  door 
was  closed  on  it.  This  lamp  was  the  signal  for  the  major  to 
approach,  and  with  beating  hearts  the  females  bent  forward 
from  the  windows,  secure  of  not  being  seen  in  the  night, 
which  had  now  fairly  closed  on  the  valley,  to  listen  to  his 
approaching  footsteps  beneath.  They  did  not  wait  long  ere 
he  was  not  only  heard,  but  dimly  seen,  though  totally  out 
of  the  line  of  sight  from  all  in  the  Hut,  with  the  exception 
of  those  above  his  head.  Captain  Willoughby  had  prepared 
a  rope,  one  end  of  which  was  dropped,  and  fastened  by  the 
major,  himself,  around  his  body.  A  jerk  let  those  above 
know  when  he  was  ready. 

"  What  shall  we  do  next  ?"  asked  the  captain,  in  a  sort 
of  despair.  "  Woods  and  I  can  never  drag  that  tall,  heavy 
fellow  up  such  a  distance.  He  is  six  feet,  and  weighs  a 
hundred  and  eighty,  if  he  weighs  a  pound." 

"  Peace,"  half-whispered  Maud,  from  a  window.  "  All 
will  be  right  in  a  moment."  Then  drawing  in  her  body, 
the  pale  but  earnest  girl  begged  her  father  to  have  patience. 
"  I  have  thought  of  all.  Mike  and  the  blacks  may  be  trusted 
with  our  lives — I  will  call  them." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  195 

This  was  done,  and  the  county  Lcitrim-man  and  the  two 
Plinys  were  soon  in  the  room. 

"  O'Hearn,"  said  Maud,  inquiringly — «*  I  think  you  are 
my  friend  ?" 

"  Am  I  my  own  ! — Is  it  yees,  is  the  question  ?  Well,  jist 
wish  for  a  tooth,  and  yc  may  take  all  in  my  head  for  the 
asking.  Och,  I'd  be  a  baste,  else  !  I  'd  ate  the  remainder 
of  my  days  wid  not'ing  but  a  spoon  to  oblcege  ye." 

"As  for  you,  Pliny,  and  your  son  here,  you  have  known 
us  from  children.  Not  a  word  must  pass  the  lips  of  either, 
as  to  what  you  see — now  pull,  but  with  great  care,  lest  the 
rope  break." 

The  men  did  as  ordered,  raising  their  load  from  the  ground, 
a  foot  or  two  at  a  time.  In  this  manner  the  burthen  approach 
ed,  yard  after  yard,  until  it  was  evidently  drawing  near  tho 
window. 

"  It 's  the  captain  hoisting  up  the  big  baste  of  a  hog,  fgr 
provisioning  the  hoose,  ag'in  a  saige,"  whispered  Mike  to 
the  negroes,  who  grinned  as  they  tugged ;  "  and  when  the 
cr'atur  squails,  sec  to  it,  that  ye  do  not  squail  yerselves." 

At  that  moment  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  man  appear 
ed  at  the  window.  Mike  let  go  the  rope,  seized  a  chair,  and 
was  about  to  knock  the  intruder  on  the  head  ;  but  the  captain 
arrested  the  blow. 

"  It's  one  of  the  vagabond  Injins  that  has  undermined  the 
hog,  and  coome  up  in  its  stead,"  roared  Mike." 

"  It 's  my  son" — answered  the  captain,  mildly—"  see  that 
you  are  silent,  and  secret." 


196  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

And  gloiy  long  has  made  the  sages  smile ; 

'Tis  something,  nothing,  words,  illusion,  wind — 

Depending  more  upon  the  historian's  style 

Than  on  the  name  a  person  leaves  behind. 

Troy  owes  to  Homer  what  whist  owes  to  Hoyle  ; 

The  present  century  was  growing  hlind 

To  the  great  Marl  borough's  skill  in  giving  knocks, 

Until  his  late  Life  by  Archdeacon  Coxe. 

BYRON. 

MAJOR  Willoughby's  feet  were  scarcely  on  the  library 
floor,  when  he  was  clasped  in  his  mother's  arms.  From 
these  he  soon  passed  into  Beuiah's ;  nor  did  his  father  hesi 
tate  about  giving  him  an  embrace  nearly  as  warm.  As  for 
Maud,  she  stood  by,  weeping  in  sympathy  and  in  silence. 

"  And  you,  too,  old  man,"  said  Robert  Willoughby,  dash 
ing  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  and  turning  to  the  elder  black, 
holding  out  a  hand — "  this  is  not  the  first  time,  by  many, 
old  Pliny,  that  you  have  had  me  between  heaven  and  earth. 
Your  son  was  my  old  play-fellow,  and  we  must  shake  hands 
also.  As  for  O'Hearn,  steel  is  not  truer,  and  we  are  friends 
for  life." 

The  negroes  were  delighted  to  see  their  young  master  ; 
for,  in  that  day,  the  slaves  exulted  in  the  honour,  appear 
ance,  importance  and  dignity  of  their  owners,  far  more  than 
their  liberated  descendants  do  now  in  their  own.  The  major 
had  been  their  friend  when  a  boy ;  and  he  was,  at  present, 
their  pride  and  glory.  In  their  view  of  the  matter,  the  Eng 
lish  army  did  not  contain  his  equal  in  looks,  courage,  mili 
tary  skill,  or  experience ;  and  it  was  treason  per  se  to  fight 
against  a  cause  that  he  upheld.  The  captain  had  laughingly 
related  to  his  wife  a  conversation  to  this  effect  he  had  not 
long  before  overheard  between  the  two  Plinys. 

"  Well,  Miss  Beuly  do  a  pretty  well" — observed  the  elder; 
"but,  den  he  all  'e  better,  if  he  no  get  'Merican  'mission. 
What  you  call  raal  colonel,  eh  ?  Have  'e  paper  from  'e  king 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  197 

like  Masser  Bob,  and  wear  a  rigimcntal  like  a  lioad  of  a 
turkey  cock,  so  !  Dat  be-in'  an  up  and  down  otliccr." 

u  P'rhaps  .Miss  Reilly  bring  a  colonel  round,  and  take  ofT 
a  blue  coat,  and  put  on  a  scarlet,"  answered  the  younger. 

«  \,-!>}irr! — nebbcr  see  dat,  Plin,  in  a  rebbleushun.  Dis 
got  to  be  a  rubbleushun ;  and  when  dat  begin  in  'arriest,  gib 
up  all  idee  of  Amendment.  Rebbleushuns  look  all  one  way — 
iK'bber  see  two  side,  any  more  dan  coloured  man  see  two 
side  in  a  red-skin." 

As  we  have  not  been  able  to  trace  the  thought  to  antiquity, 
this  expression  may  have  been  the  original  of  the  celebrated 
axiom  of  Napoleon,  which  tells  us  that  "revolutions  never 
go  backwards.'1  At  aJl  events,  such  was  the  notion  of 
Pliny  Willoughby,  Sen.,  as  the  namesake  of  the  great  Ro 
man  sty  led"  himself;  and  it  was  greatly  admired  by  Pliny 
WU  lough  by^  Jun.,  to  say  nothing  of  the  opinions  of  Big 
Smash  and  Little  Smash,  both  of  whom  were  listeners  to 
the  discourse. 

"  Well,  I  wish  a  colonel  Beekman" — To  this  name  the 
fellow  gave  the  true  Doric  sound  of  Bakeman. — "  I  wish  a 
colonel  Beekman  only  corprul  in  king's  troops,  for  .Miss 
Beuly's  sake.  Better  be  sarjun  dere,  dan  briggerdeer-ginral 
in  '.Mi-rikan  company  ;  dat  /know." 

"  What  a  briggerdeer  mean,  Plin  ]"  inquired  Little  Smash, 
with  interest.  k>  Who  he  keep  company  wid,  and  what  he 
do  ?  Tell  a  body,  do — so  many  officer  in  'e  army,  one  nebber 
know  all  he  name." 

••  "Mericans  can't  hab  'em.  Too  poor  for  dat.  Brigger- 
deer  great  gentleum,  and  wear  a  red  coat.  Ole  time,  see 
'em  in  hundreds,  come  to  visit  Masser,  and  Missus,  and  play 
wid  Masser  Bob.  Oh !  no  rebbleushun  in  dem  days ;  but 
ebbery  body  know  he  own  business,  and  do  it,  too." 

This  will  serve  to  show  the  political  sentiments  of  the 
Plinys,  and  may  also  indicate  the  bias  that  the  Smashes 
were  likely  to  imbibe  in  such  company.  As  a  matter  of 
•%  the  major  was  gladly  welcomed  by  these  devoted 
admirers;  and  when  Maud  a^.-iin  whispered  to  them  the  ne 
cessity  of  -  ich  shut  his  mouth,  no  trifling  operation 
in  itself,  as  if  it  were  to  be  henceforth  hermetically  s 

The  assistants  were  now  dismissed,  and  the  major  was 
left  alone  with  his  family.  Again  and  again  Mrs.  Willoughby 
17* 


198  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

embraced  her  son ;  nor  had  her  new  ties  at  all  lessened 
Beulah's  interest  in  her  brother.  Even  the  captain  kissed 
his  boy  anew,  while  Mr.  Woods  shook  hands  once  more 
with  his  old  pupil,  and  blessed  him.  Maud  alone  was  passive 
in  this  scene  of  feeling  and  joy. 

"  Now,  Bob,  let  us  to  business,"  said  the  captain,  as  soon 
as  tranquillity  was  a  little  restored.  "  You  have  not  made 
this  difficult  and  perilous  journey  without  an  object ;  and, 
as  we  are  somewhat  critically  situated  ourselves,  the  sooner 
we  know  what  it  is,  the  less  will  be  the  danger  of  its  not 
producing  its  proper  effect." 

"  Heaven  send,  dear  sir,  that  it  fail  not  in  its  effect,  in 
deed,"  answered  the  son.  "  But  is  not  this  movement  in 
the  valley  pressing,  and  have  I  not  come  opportunely  to 
take  a  part  in  the  defence  of  the  house?" 

"  That  will  be  seen  a  few  hours  later,  perhaps.  Every 
thing  is  quiet  now,  and  will  probably  so  remain  until  near 
morning ;  or  Indian  tactics  have  undergone  a  change.  The 
fellows  have  lighted  camp-fires  on  their  rocks,  and  seern 
disposed  to  rest  for  the  present,  at  least.  Nor  do  I  know 
that  they  are  bent  on  war  at  all.  We  have  no  Indians  near 
us,  who  would  be  likely  to  dig  up  the  hatchet ;  and  these 
fellows  profess  peace,  by  a  messenger  they  have  sent  me." 

"  Are  they  not  in  their  war-paint,  sir  ?  I  remember  to 
have  seen  warriors,  when  a  boy,  and  my  glass  has  given 
these  men  the  appearance  of  being  on  what  they  call  '  a 
war-path.' " 

"  Some  of  them  are  certainly  in  that  guise,  though  he 
who  came  to  the  Knoll  was  not.  He  pretended  that  they 
were  a  party  travelling  towards  the  Hudson  in  order  to  learn 
the  true  causes  of  the  difficulties  between  their  Great  English 
and  their  Great  American  Fathers.  He  asked  for  meal  and 
meat  to  feed  his  young  men  with.  This  was  the  whole  pur 
port  of  his  errand." 

"  And  your  answer,  sir ;  is  it  peace,  or  war,  between 
you  ?" 

"  Peace  in  professions,  but  I  much  fear  war  in  reality. 
Still  one  cannot  know.  An  old  frontier  garrison-man,  like 
myself,  is  not  apt  to  put  much  reliance  on  Indian  faith.  We 
are  now,  God  be  praised !  all  within  the  stockade ;  and 
having  plenty  of  arms  and  ammunition,  are  not  likely  to  be 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  199 

easily  stormed.  A  siege  is  out  of  the  question ;  we  are  too 
well  provisioned  to  dread  that." 

"  But  you  leave  the  mills,  the  growing  grain,  the  barns, 
even  the  cabins  of  your  workmen,  altogether  at  the  mercy 
of  these  wretches." 

'•  That  cannot  well  be  avoided,  unless  we  go  out  and 
drive  them  off,  in  open  battle.  For  the  last,  they  are  too 
strong,  to  say  nothing  of  the  odds  of  risking  fathers  of  fami 
lies  against  mere  vagabonds,  as  I  suspect  these  savages  to 
be.  I  have  told  them  to  help  themselves  to  meal,  or  grain, 
of  which  they  will  find  plenty  in  the  mill.  Pork  can  be  got 
in  the  houses,  and  they  have  made  way  with  a  deer  already, 
that  I  had  expected  the  pleasure  of  dissecting  myself.  The 
cattle  roam  the  woods  at  this  season,  and  are  tolerably  safe ; 
but  they  can  burn  the  barns  and  other  buildings,  should 
they  see  fit.  In  this  respect,  we  are  at  their  mercy.  If 
they  ask  for  rum,  or  cider,  that  may  bring  matters  to  a 
head ;  for,  refusing  may  exasperate  them,  and  granting 
either,  in  any  quantity,  will  certainly  cause  them  all  to  get 
intoxicated." 

"  Why  would  not  that  be  good  policy,  Willoughby  ?"  ex 
claimed  the  chaplain.  "  If  fairly  disguised  once,  our  people 
might  steal  out  upon  them,  and  take  away  all  their  arms. 
Drunken  men  sleep  very  profoundly." 

"  It  would  be  a  canonical  mode  of  warfare,  perhaps, 
Woods,"  returned  the  chaplain,  smiling,  «*  but  not  exactly 
a  military.  I  think  it  safer  that  they  should  continue  sober  ; 
for,  as  yet,  they  manifest  no  great  intentions  of  hostility. 
But  of  this  we  can  speak  hereafter.  Why  are  you  here, 
my  son,  and  in  this  guise  ?" 

"  The  motive  may  as  well  be  told  now,  as  at  another 
time,"  answered  the  major,  giving  his  mother  and  sisters 
chairs,  while  the  others  imitated  their  example  in  being 
seated.  *'  Sir  William  Howe  has  permitted  me  to  come  out 
to  see  you — I  might  almost  say  ordered  me  out ;  for  matters 
have  now  reached  a  pass  when  we  think  every  loyal  gentle 
man  in  America  must  feel  disposed  to  take  sides  with  the 
crown." 

A  general  movement  among  his  auditors  told  the  mnjor 
the  extent  of  the  interest  they  felt  in  what  was  expected  to 
follow.  He  paused  an  instant  to  survey  the  dark-looking 


200  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

group  that  was  clustering  around  him  ;  for  no  lights  were  in 
the  room  on  account  of  the  open  windows,  and  he  spoke  in 
a  low  voice  from  motives  of  prudence  ;  then  he  proceeded  : 

"  I  should  infer  from  the  little  that  passed  between  Maud 
and  myself,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  ignorant  of  the  two 
most  important  events  that  have  yet  occurred  in  this  un 
happy  conflict  ?" 

"  We  learn  little  here,"  answered  the  father.  "  I  have 
heard  that  my  Lord  Howe  and  his  brother  Sir  William  have 
been  named  commissioners  by  His  Majesty  to  heal  all  the 
differences.  I  knew  them  both,  when  young  men,  and  their 
elder  brother  before  them.  Black  Dick,  as  we  used  to  call 
the  admiral,  is  a  discreet,  well-meaning  man ;  though  I  fear 
both  of  them  owe  their  appointments  more  to  their  affinity 
to  the  sovereign  than  to  the  qualities  that  might  best  fit  them 
to  deal  with  the  Americans." 

"  Little  is  known  of  the  affinity  of  which  you  speak,*  and 
less  said  in  the  army,"  returned  the  major,  "  but  I  fear  there 
is  no  hope  of  the  object  of  the  commission's  bei-ng  effected. 
The  American  congress  has  declared  the  colonies  altogether 
independent  of  England ;  and  so  far  as  this  country  is  con 
cerned,  the  war  is  carried  on  as  between  nation  and  nation. 
All  allegiance,  even  in  name,  is  openly  cast  aside." 

"  You  astonish  me,  Bob  !  I  did  not  think  it  could  ever 
come  to  this  !" 

"  I  thought  your  native  attachments  would  hardly  endure 
as  strong  a  measure  as  this  has  got  to  be,"  answered  the 
major,  not  a  little  satisfied  with  the  strength  of  feeling  mani 
fested  by  his  father.  "  Yet  has  this  been  done,  sir,  and  done 


*  The  mother  of  the  three  Lords  Howe,  so  well  known  in  American 
history,  viz:  George,  killed  before  Ticonderoga,  in  the  war  of  '56; 
Richard,  the  celebrated  admiral,  and  the  hero  of  the  1st  June;  and 
Sir  William,  for  several  years  commander-in-chief  in  this  country, 
and  the  5th  and  last  viscount;  was  a  Mademoiselle  Kilmansegge, 
who  was  supposed  to  be  a  natural  daughter  of  George  I.  This  would 
make  these  three  officers  and  George  II.  first-cousins;  and  George  III. 
their  great-nephew  a  la  mode  de  Bretagne.  Walpole,  and  various  other- 
English  writers,  speak  openly,  not  only  of  the  connection,  but  of  the 
family  resemblance.  Indeed,  most  of  the  gossiping  writers  of  that 
age  seem  to  allow  that  Lord  Howe  was  a  grandson  of  the  first  English 
sovereign  of  the  House  of  Brunswick. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  201 

in  a  way  that  it  will  not  be  easy  to  recall.     Those  who  now 
;s,  resist  for  the  sake  of  throwing  off  all  connection 
with  Enulaml." 

44  Il;i-  Franco  any  agency  in  this,  Bob? — I  own  it  startles 
me,  and  h;:s  a  French  look." 

44  It  has  driven  many  of  the  most  respectable  of  our  ene- 
mius  into  our  arms,  sir.  We  have  never  considered  you  a 
direct  enemy,  though  unhappily  inclining  too  much  against 
us  ;  *  but  this  will  determine  Sir  Hugh,'  said  the  commander- 
in-chief  in  our  closing  interview — I  suppose  you  know,  my 
dear  father,  that  all  your  old  friends,  knowing  what  has 
happened,  insist  on  calling  you  Sir  Hugh.  I  assure  you,  I 
open  my  lips  on  the  subject;  and  yet  Lord  Howe 
drank  to  the  health  of  Sir  Hugh  VVilloughby,  openly  at  his 
own  table,  the  last  time  I  had  the  honour  to  dine  with 
him." 

41  Then  the  next  time  he  favours  you  with  an  invitation, 
Bob,  be  kind  enough  to  thank  him.  1  want  no  empty  baron 
etcy,  nor  do  I  ever  think  of  returning  to  England  to  live. 
Were  all  I  had  on  earth  drummed  together,  it  would  barely 
make  out  a  respectable  competency  for  a  private  gentleman 
in  that  extravagant  state  of  society ;  and  what  is  a  mere 
name  to  one  in  such  circumstances?  I  wish  it  were  trans 
ferable,  my  dear  boy,  in  the  old  Scotch  mode,  and  you  should 
be  Sir  Bob  before  you  slept." 

44  But,  Willoughby,  it  may  be  useful  to  Robert,  and  why 
should  he  not  have  the  title,  since  neither  you  nor  I  care  for 
it  ?"  asked  the  considerate  mother. 

44  So  he  may,  my  dear ;  though  he  must  wait  for  an  event 
that  I  fancy  you  are  not  very  impatient  to  witness  —  my 
death.  When  I  am  gone,  let  him  be  Sir  Robert,  in  welcome. 
But,  Bob — for  plain,  honest  Bob  must  you  remain  till  then, 
unless  indeed  you  earn  your  spurs  in  this  unhappy  war  — 
have  you  any  military  tidings  for  us  !  Wo  have  heard  no- 
Ihinir  since  the  arrival  of  the  fleet  on  the  coast." 

v-  We  are  in  New  York,  after  routing  Washington  on 
Long  Island.  The  rebels"  —  the  major  spoke  a  little  more 
confidently  than  had  been  his  wont  — 44  The  rebels  have 
retreated  into  the  high  country,  near  the  borders  of  Connec 
ticut,  where  they  have  inveterate  nests  of  the  disaffected  in 
their  rear." 


202  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  And  has  all  this  been  done  without  bloodshed  1  Wash 
ington  had  stuff  in  him,  in  the  old  French  business." 

"  His  stuff  is  not  doubted,  sir;  but  his  men  make  misera 
ble  work  of  it.  Really  I  am  sometimes  ashamed  of  having 
been  born  in  the  country.  These  Yankees  fight  like  wrangling 
women,  rather  than  soldiers." 

"  How  's  this  ! — You  spoke  honestly  of  the  affair  at  Lex 
ington,  and  wrote  us  a  frank  account  of  the  murderous  work 
at  Bunker  Hill.  Have  their  natures  changed  with  the  change 
of  season  ?" 

"  To  own  the  truth,  sir,  they  did  wonders  on  the  Hill,  and 
not  badly  in  the  other  affair ;  but  all  their  spirit  seems  gone. 
I  am  quite  ashamed  of  them.  Perhaps  this  declaration  of 
independence,  as  it  is  called,  has  damped  their  ardour." 

"  No,  my  son  —  the  change,  if  change  there  is,  depends 
on  a  general  and  natural  law.  Nothing  but  discipline  and 
long  training  can  carry  men  with  credit  through  a  campaign, 
in  the  open  field.  Fathers,  and  husbands,  and  brothers  and 
lovers,  make  formidable  enemies,  in  sight  of  their  own 
chimney-tops ;  but  the  most  flogging  regiments,  we  used  to 
say,  were  the  best  fighting  regiments  for  a  long  pull.  But, 
have  a  care,  Bob ;  you  are  now  of  a  rank  that  may  well  get 
you  a  separate  command,  and  do  not  despise  your  enemy. 
I  know  these  Yankees  well — you  are  one,  yourself,  though 
only  half-blooded  ;  but  I  know  them  well,  and  have  often 
seen  them  tried.  They  are  very  apt  to  be  badly  commanded, 
heaven  cursing  them  for  their  sins,  in  this  form  more  than 
any  other — but  get  them  fairly  at  work,  and  the  guards  will 
have  as  much  as  they  can  wish,  to  get  along  with.  Woods 
will  swear  to  that" 

"  Objecting  to  the  mode  of  corroboration,  my  dear  sir,  1 
can  support  its  substance.  Inclined  as  I  am  to  uphold  Csesar, 
and  to  do  honour  to  the  Lord's  anointed,  I  will  not  deny  my 
countrymen's  courage ;  though  I  think,  Willoughby,  now  J 
recall  old  times,  it  was  rather  the  fashion  of  our  officers  to 
neat  it  somewhat  disrespectfully." 

"  It  was,  indeed,"  answered  the  captain,  thoughtfully  — 
"  and  a  silly  thing  it  was.  They  mistook  the  nature  of  a 
mild  and  pacific  people,  totally  without  the  glitter  and  habits 
of  military  life,  for  a  timid  people;  and  I  have  often  heard 
the  new  hands  in  the  colonies  speak  of  their  inhabitants 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  203 

with  contempt  on  this  very  head.  Braddock  had  that  failing 
to  a  great  degree;  and  yet  this  very  major  Washington 
saved  his  army  from  annihilation,  when  it  came  to  truly 
desperate  work.  Mark  the  words  of  a  much  older  soldier 
than  yourself,  Bob;  you  may  have  more  of  the  bravery  of 
apparel,  and  pivsrnt  a  more  military  aspect ;  may  even  grain 
advantages  over  them  by  means  of  higher  discipline,  better 
arms,  and  more  accurate  combinations ;  but,  when  you  meet 
them  fairly,  depend  on  it  you  will  meet  dangerous  foes,  and 
men  capable  of  being  sooner  drilled  into  good  soldiers  than 
any  nation  I  have  met  with.  Their  great  curse  is,  and 
probably  will  be,  in  selecting  too  many  of  their  officers  from 
classes  not  embued  with  proper  military  pride,  and  altoge 
ther  without  the  collaterals  of  a  good  military  education." 

To  all  this  the  major  had  nothing  very  material  to  object, 
and  remembering  that  the  silent  but  thoughtful  Beulah  had 
a  husband  in  what  he  called  the  rebel  ranks,  he  changed  the 
subject.  Arrangements  were  now  made  for  the  comfort  and 
privacy  of  the  unlooked-for  guest.  Adjoining  the  library,  a 
room  with  no  direct  communication  with  the  court  by  means 
of  either  door  or  window,  was  a  small  and  retired  apartment 
containing  a  cot-bed,  to  which  the  captain  was  accustomed 
to  retire  in  the  cases  of  indisposition,  whon  Mrs.  Willoughby 
wished  to  have  either  of  her  daughters  with  herself,  on  their 
account,  or  on  her  own.  This  room  was  now  given  to  the 
major,  and  in  it  he  would  be  perfectly  free  from  every  sort 
of  intrusion.  He  might  eat  in  the  library,  if  necessary ; 
though,  all  the  windows  of  that  wing  of  the  house  opening 
outward,  there  was  little  danger  of  being  seen  by  any  but 
the  regular  domestics  of  the  family,  all  of  whom  were  to  be 
let  into  the  secret  of  his  presence,  and  all  of  whom  were 
rightly  judged  to  be  perfectly  trustworthy. 

As  the  evening  promised  to  be  dark,  it  was  determined 
among  the  gentlemen  that  the  major  should  disguise  him 
self  still  more  than  he  was  already,  and  venture  outside  of 
the  building,  in  company  with  his  father,  and  the  chaplain, 
as  soon  as  the  people,  who  were  now  crowded  into  the 
vacant  rooms  in  the  empty  part  of  the  house,  had  taken 
possession  of  their  respective  quarters  for  the  night.  In  the 
meantime  a  hearty  supper  was  provided  for  the  traveller  in 
the  library,  the  bullet-proof  window-shutters  of  which  room, 


204  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

and  indeed  of  all  the  others  on  that  side  of  the  building, 
having  first  been  closed,  in  order  that  lights  might  be  used, 
without  drawing  a  shot  from  the  adjoining  forest. 

"  We  are  very  safe,  here,"  observed  the  captain,  as  his 
son  appeased  his  hunger,  with  the  keen  relish  of  a  traveller. 
"  Even  Woods  might  stand  a  siege  in  a  house  built  and 
stockaded  like  this.  Every  window  has  solid  bullet-proof 
shutters,  with  fastenings  not  easily  broken ;  and  the  logs  of 
the  buildings  might  almost  defy  round-shot.  The  gates  are 
all  up,  one  leaf  excepted,  and  that  leaf  stands  nearly  in  its 
place,  well  propped  and  supported.  In  the  morning  it  shall 
be  hung  like  the  others.  Then  the  stockade  is  complete, 
and  has  not  a  speck  of  decay  about  it  yet.  We  shall  keep 
a  guard  of  twelve  men  up  the  whole  night,  with  three  senti 
nels  outside  of  the  buildings;  and  all  of  us  will  sleep  in  our 
clothes,  and  on  our  arms.  My  plan,  should  an  assault  be 
made,  is  to  draw  in  the  sentinels,  as  soon  as  they  have  dis 
charged  their  pieces,  to  close  the  gate,  and  man  the  loops. 
The  last  are  all  open,  and  spare  arms  are  distributed  at 
them.  I  had  a  walk  made  within  the  ridge  of  the  roofs  this 
spring,  by  which  men  can  run  round  the  whole  Hut,  in  the 
event  of  an  attempt  to  set  fire  to  the  shingles,  or  fire  over 
the  ridge  at  an  enemy  at  the  stockades.  It  is  a  great  im 
provement,  Bob  ;  and,  as  it  is  well  railed,  will  make  a  capital 
station  in  a  warm  conflict,  before  the  enemy  make  their  way 
within  the  stockade." 

"  We  must  endeavour  not  to  let  them  get  there,  sir,"  an 
swered  the  major — "  but,  as  soon  as  your  people  are  housed, 
I  shall  have  an  opportunity  to  reconnoitre.  Open  work  is 
most  to  the  taste  of  us  regulars." 

"  Not  against  an  Indian  enemy.  You  will  be  glad  of  such 
a  fortress  as  this,  boy,  before  the  question  of  independence, 
or  no  independence,  shall  be  finally  settled.  Did  not  Wash 
ington  entrench  in  the  town  ?" 

"  Not  much  on  that  side  of  the  water,  sir ;  though  he  was 
reasonably  well  in  the  ground  on  Long  Island.  There  he 
had  many  thousands  of  men,  and  works  of  some  extent." 

"  And  how  did  he  get  off  the  island  ?"  demanded  the  cap- 
'tain,  turning  round  to  look  his  son  in  the  face.  "  The  arm 
of  the  sea  is  quite  half-a-mile  in  width,  at  that  point — how 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  205 

did  he  cross  it  in  the  face  of  a  victorious  army  ?— 01  did  he 
only  save  himself,  while  you  captured  his  troops?" 

Tin'  major  coloured  a  little,  and  then  he  luoKcd  at  Beulah 
and  smiled  good-naturedly. 

"  1  am  so  surrounded  by  rebels  here,"  he  said,  "  that  it  is 
not  ea>y  to  answer  all  your  questions,  sir.  Beat  him  we  did, 
beyond  a  question,  and  that  with  a  heavy  loss  to  his  army— 
and  out  of  New  York  we  have  driven  him,  beyond  a  ques 
tion —  but  —  1  will  not  increase  Beulah's  conceit  by  stating 
any  more !" 

"  If  you  can  tell  me  anything  kind  of  Evert,  Bob,  you 
will  act  like  a  brother  in  so  doing,"  said  the  gentle  wife. 

"Ay,  Heekman  did  well  too,  they  said.  I  heard  some 
of  our  officers  extolling  a  charge  he  made;  and  to  own  the 
truth,  I  was  not  sorry  to  be  able  to  say  he  was  my  sister's 
husband,  since  a  fierce  rebel  she  would  marry.  All  our 
news  of  him  is  to  his  credit ;  and  now  I  shall  get  a  kiss  for 
my  pains." 

The  major  was  not  mistaken.  With  a  swelling  heart,  but 
smiling  countenance,  his  sister  threw  herself  into  his  arms, 
when  she  kissed  and  was  kissed  until  the  tears  streamed 
down  her  cheeks. 

"  It  was  of  Washington  I  intended  to  speak,  sir,"  resumed 
the  major,  dashing  a  tear  or  two  from  his  own  eyes,  as 
Beulah  resumed  her  chair.  "  His  retreat  from  the  island  is 
n  of  as  masterly,  and  has  gained  him  great  credit.  He 
conducted  it  in  person,  and  did  not  lose  a  man.  I  heard  Sir 
William  mention  it  as  masterly." 

"Then  by  heaven,  America  will  prevail  in  this  contest!" 
exclaimed  the  captain,  striking  his  fist  upon  the  table,  with  a 
suddenness  and  force  that  caused  all  in  the  room  to  start. 
"  If  she  has  a  general  who  can  effect  such  a  movement  skil 
fully,  the  reign  of  England  is  over,  here.  Why,  Woods, 
r  did  a  better  tiling  !  Tin;  retreat  of  the  ten 
thousand  was  boy's  play  to  getting  across  that  water.  Be 
sides,  your  victory  could  have  been  no  great  matter,  Bob, 
or  it  would  never  have  be^n  done." 

"Our  victory  was  re^x-r'-iMe,  sir,  while  I  acknowledge 
that  the  retreat  was  great.  No  one  among  us  denies  it,  and 
Washington  is  always  named  with  respect  in  the  army." 

VOL.  I.  — 18 


206  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

In  a  minute  more,  Big  Smash  came  in,  under  the  pretence 
of  removing  the  dishes,  but  in  reality  to  see  Master  Bob,  and 
to  be  noticed  by  him.  She  was  a  woman  of  sixty,  the  mo 
ther  of  Little  Smash,  herself  a  respectable  matron  of  forty; 
and  both  had  been  born  in  the  household  of  Mrs.  Willough- 
by's  father,  and  had  rather  more  attachment  for  any  one  of 
her  children  than  for  all  of  their  own,  though  each  had  been 
reasonably  prolific.  The  sobriquets  had  passed  into  general 
use,  and  the  real  names  of  Bess  and  Mart'  were  nearly 
obsolete.  Still,  the  major  thought  it  polite  to  use  the  latter 
on  the  present  occasion. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mrs.  Bess,"  he  said,  shaking  the  old 
woman  cordially  by  the  hand,  though  he  instinctively  shrunk 
back  from  the  sight  of  a  pair  of  lips  that  were  quite  ultra, 
in  the  way  of  pouting,  which  used  often  to  salute  him  twenty 
years  before — "  Upon  my  word,  Mrs.  Bess,  you  improve 
in  beauty,  everytime  1  see  you.  Old  age  and  you  seem  to 
be  total  strangers  to  each  other.  How  do  you  manage  to 
remain  so  comely  and  so  young?" 

"  God  send  'e  fus',  Masser  Bob,  heabben  be  praise,  and  a 
good  conscience  do  'e  las'.  I  do  wish  you  could  make  ole 
Plin  hear  dat !  He  nebber  t'ink  any  good  look,  now-a-day, 
in  a  ole  wench." 

"  Pliny  is  half  blind.  But  that  is  the  way  with  most  hus 
bands,  Smash ;  they  become  blind  to  the  charms  of  their 
spouses,  after  a  few  years  of  matrimony." 

"  Nebber  get  marry,  Masser  Bob,  if  dat  be  'e  way." 

Then  Great  Smash  gave  such  a  laugh,  and  such  a  swing 
of  her  unwieldy  body,  that  one  might  well  have  apprehended 
her  downfall.  But,  no  such  thing.  She  maintained  the 
equilibrium  ;  for,  renowned  as  she  had  been  all  her  life  at 
producing  havoc  among  plates,  and  cups,  and  bowls,  she 
was  never  known  to  be  thrown  off  her  own  centre  of  gra 
vity.  Another  hearty  shake  of  the  hand  followed,  and  the 
major  quitted  the  table.  As  was  usual  on  all  great  and  joy. 
ous  occasions  in  the  family,  when  the  emotions  reached  the 
kitchen,  that  evening  was  remarkable  for  a  "  smash,"  in 
which  half  the  crockery  that  had  just  been  brought  from  the 
table,  fell  an  unresisting  sacrifice.  This  produced  a  hot 
discussion  between  "  The  Big"  and  "  The  Little,"  as  to  the 
offender,  which  resulted,  as  so  often  happens  in  these  in- 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  207 

quirics  into  the  accidents  of  domestic  life,  in  the  conclusion 
that  "  nub"  ion.;  to  hlaiii". 

••  How  V  fink  lie  can  come  back,  and  not  a  plate  crack  !" 
exclaimed  Little  Smash,  in  a  vindicatory  tone,  she  being  the 
real  delinquent — "  ;Jut  in  V  winder,  too!  Lor!  dot  enough 
to  break  all  'e  dish  in  'c  house,  and  in  V  mill,  too  !  I  do  wish 
ebbery  plate  we  got  was  an  Injin — den  you  see  fun  !  Can 
neither  like  Injin  ;  'cm  so  red,  and  so  sabbage !" 

"  Ncbbcr  talk  of  Injin,  now,"  answered  the  indignant  mo- 
ther — "  better  talk  of  plate.  Dis  make  forty  t'ousand  dish 
you  break,  Mari',  sin'  you  war'  a  young  woman.  S'pose 
you  t'ink  Masser  made  of  plate,  dat  you  break  'em  up  so ! 
bat  what  ole  Plin  say — de  nigger!  He  say  all  men  made 
of  clay,  and  plate  made  of  clay,  too— well,  hot'  clay,  and 
bot'  break.  All  on  us  wessels,  and  all  on  us  break  to  pieces 
some  day,  and  don  dey'll  t'row  us  away,  too." 

A  general  laugh  succeeded  this  touch  of  morality,  Great 
Smash  bein-g  a  little  addicted  to  ethical  remarks  of  this  na 
ture  ;  after  which  the  war  was  renewed  on  the  subject  of 
the  broken  crockery.  Nor  did  it  soon  cease ;  wrangling, 
laughing,  singing,  toiling,  a  light-heartcdncss  that  knew  no 
serious  cares,  and  affection,  making  up  the  sum  of  the  every 
day  existence  of  these  semi-civilized  beings.  The  presence 
of  the  party  in  the  valley,  however,  afforded  the  subject  of 
an  episode;  for  a  negro  has  quite  as  much  of  the  de  haul 
en  has  in  his  manner  of  viewing  the  aborigines,  as  the  whites 
have  in  their  speculations  on  his  own  race.  Mingled  with 
this  contempt,  notwithstanding,  was  a  very  active  dread, 
neither  of  the  Plinys,  nor  of  their  amiable  consorts,  in  the 
least  relishing  the  idea  of  being  shorn  of  the  wool,  with 
shears  as  penetrating  as  the  scalping-knife.  After  a  good 
deal  of  discussion  on  this  subject,  the  kitchen  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  visit  of  the  major  was  ordered  by  Provi 
dence,  since  it  was  out  of  all  the  rules  of  probability  and 
practice  to  have  a  few  half-clad  savages  get  the  better  of 
oer  Bob,"  who  was  born  a  soldier,  and  had  so  recently 
been  fighting  for  the  king. 

On  the  latter  subject,  we  ought  to  have  stated  that  the 
captain's  kitchen  was  ultra-loyal.  The  rude,  but  simple 
beings  it  contained,  had  a  reverence  for  rank  and  power 
that  even  a  "  rebbelushun"  could  not  disturb,  and  which 


208  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

closely  associated,  in  their  minds,  royal  authority  \i  ith  divine 
power.  Next  to  their  own  master,  they  considered  George 
III.  as  the  greatest  man  of  the  age  ;  and  there  was  no  dis 
position  in  them  to  rob  him  of  his  rights  or  his  honours. 

"  You  seem  thoughtful,  Woods,"  said  the  captain,  while 
his  son  had  retired  to  his  own  room,  in  order  to  assume  a 
disguise  less  likely  to  attract  attention  in  the  garrison  than 
a  hunting-shirt.  "  Is  it  this  unexpected  visit  of  Bob's  that 
furnishes  food  for  reflection  ?" 

"  Not  so  much  his  visit,  my  dear  Willoughby,  as  the 
news  he  brings  us.  God  knows  what  will  befall  the  church, 
should  this  rebellion  make  serious  head.  The  country  is  in 
a  dreadful  way,  already,  on  the  subject  of  religion ;  but  it 
will  be  far  worse  if  these  *  canters'  get  the  upper  hand  of 
the  government." 

The  captain  was  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  moment ;  then 
he  laughingly  replied — 

"  Fear  nothing  for  the  church,  chaplain.  It  is  of  God, 
and  will  outlast  a  hundred  political  revolutions." 

"I  don't  know  that,  Willoughby— I  don't  know  that"— The 
chaplain  did  not  exactly  mean  what  he  said  — "  'Twouldn't 
surprise  me  if  we  had  '  taking  up  collections,'  '  sitting  un 
der  preaching?  'providentially  happening,'  l  exercised  in 
mind?  and  '  our  Zion?  finding  their  way  into  dictionaries." 

"  Quite  likely,  Woods" — returned  the  captain,  smiling— 
"  Liberty  is  known  to  produce  great  changes  in  things; 
why  not  in  language?" 

"  Liberty,  indeed  !  Yes  ;  *  liberty  in  prayer'  is  another  of 
their  phrases.  Well,  captain  Willoughby,  if  this  rebellion 
should  succeed,  we  may  give  up  all  hopes  for  the  church. 
What  sort  of  government  shall  we  have,  do  you  imagine, 
sir?" 

"  Republican,  of  course,"  answered  the  captain,  a^ain 
becoming  thoughtful,  as  his  mind  reverted  to  the  important 
results  that  were  really  dependent  on  the  present  state  of 
things.  "  Republican — it  can  be  no  other.  These  colonies 
have  always  had  a  strong  bias  in  that  direction,  and  they 
want  the  elements  necessary  to  a  monarchy.  New  York 
has  a  landed  gentry,  it  is  true ;  and  so  has  Maryland,  and 
Virginia,  and  the  Carolinas ;  but  they  are  not  strong  enough 
to  set  up  a  political  aristocracy,  or  to  prop  a  throne  j  and 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  209 

then  this  centry  will  probably  be  much  weakened  by  tho 

slruururii'.  Half  the  principal  families  an;  known  to  be  with 
the  crown,  as  it  is;  and  n<".v  nun  will  force  them  out  of 
place,  in  a  revolution.  No,  Woods,  if  this  revolution  prosper, 
the  monarchy  is  done  in  America,  for  at  least  a  century." 

••  And  tin-  prayers  for  the  king  and  royal  family — what 
will  become  of /Arm  /  ' 

"  I  should  think  they  must  cease,  also.  I  question  if  a 
people  will  continue  long  to  pray  for  authorities  that  they 
refuse  to  obey." 

"  I  shall  stick  to  the  rubrics  as  long  as  I  have  a  tongue 
in  my  head.  I  trust,  Willoughby,  you  will  not  stop  these 
prayers,  in  your  settlement?" 

"  It  is  the  last  mode  in  which  I  should  choose  to  show 
hostility.  Still,  you  must  allow  it  is  a  little  too  much  to  ask 
a  congregation  to  pray  that  the  king  shall  overcome  his 
enemies,  when  they  are  among  those  very  enemies  ?  The 
question  presents  a  dilemma." 

"  And,  yet,  I  have  never  failed  to  read  that  prayer,  as 
well  as  all  the  rest.  You  have  not  objected,  hitherto." 

"  I  have  not,  for  I  have  considered  the  war  as  being  waged 
with  parliament  and  the  ministers,  whereas  it  is  now  clearly 
with  the  king.  This  paper  is  certainly  a  plain  and  forcible 
document." 

"  And  what  is  that  paper?  Not  the  Westminster  Confes 
sion  of  Faith,  or  the  Saybrook  Platform,  I  hope ;  one  of 
which  will  certainly  supersede  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  in 
all  our  churches,  if  this  rebellion  prosper." 

"  It  is  the  manifesto  issued  by  congress,  to  justify  their 
declaration  of  independence.  Bob  has  brought  it  with  him, 
ns  a  proof  how  far  matters  have  been  carried ;  but,  really, 
it  seems  to  be  a  creditable  document,  and  is  eloquently  rea 
soned." 

"  I  see  how  it  is,  Willoughby — I  sec  how  it  is.  We  shall 
find  you  a  rebel  general  yet;  and  I  export  to  live  to  hear 
you  talk  about  4  our  Zion'  and  'providential  accidents.'" 

••  X'-i'h'-r,  Woods.  For  the  first,  I  am  too  old;  and,  for 
the  last,  I  have  too  much  taste,  I  trust.  Whether  I  shall 
alway>  pray  for  the  king  is  another  matter.  Bat,  here  is 
the  major,  ready  for  his  sortie.  Upon  my  word,  his  mas 
querade  is  so  complete,  I  hardly  know  him  myself." 
18* 


210  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

He  could  not  rest,  he  could  not  stay 
Within  his  tent  to  wait  for  day ; 
But  walked  him  forth  along  the  sand, 
Where  thousand  sleepers  strewed  the  strand. 

Siege  of  Corinth. 

IT  was  now  so  late  that  most  of  the  men  of  the  Hut,  and 
all  the  women  and  children,  were  housed  for  the  night,  pro 
vided  no  alarm  occurred.  There  was  consequently  little 
risk  in  the  major's  venturing  forth,  disguised  as  he  was, 
should  care  be  taken  not  to  approach  a  light.  The  great 
number  of  the  latter,  streaming  through  the  windows  of  the 
western  wing  of  the  building,  showed  how  many  were  now 
collected  within  the  walls,  and  gave  an  unusual  appearance 
of  life  and  animation  to  the  place.  Still,  the  court  was  clear, 
the  men  seeking  their  pallets,  in  readiness  for  their  coming 
watches,  while  the  women  were  occupied  with  those  great 
concerns  of  female  life,  the  care  of  children. 

The  captain,  major,  and  chaplain,  each  carrying  a  rifle, 
and  the  two  former  pistols,  moved  rapidly  across  the  court, 
and  passed  the  gate.  The  moveable  leaf  of  the  latter  was 
left  unbarred,  it  being  the  orders  of  the  captain  to  the  senti 
nels  without,  on  the  approach  of  an  enemy,  to  retire  within 
the  court,  and  then  to  secure  the  fastenings. 

The  night  was  star-light,  and  it  was  cool,  as  is  common 
to  this  region  of  country.  There  being  neither  lamp  nor 
candle  on  the  exterior  of  the  house,  even  the  loops  being 
darkened,  there  was  little  danger  in  moving  about  within 
the  stockades.  The  sentinels  were  directed  to  take  their 
posts  so  near  the  palisades  as  to  command  views  of  the  open 
lawn  without,  a  precaution  that  would  effectually  prevent 
the  usual  stealthy  approach  of  an  enemy  without  discovery. 
As  the  alarm  had  been  very  decided,  these  irregula  guar 
dians  of  the  house  were  all  at  their  posts,  and  exceedingly 
watchful,  a  circumstance  that  enabled  the  captain  to  avoid 
them,  and  thus  further  remove  the  danger  of  his  son's  being 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  211 

recognised.  lie  accordingly  held  himself  aloof  from  the 
men,  keeping  within  the  of  the  sides  of  the  Hut. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  first  object  to  which  our  two 
soldiers  direeted  their  eyeSj  was  the  rock  above  the  mill. 
The  Indians  had  lighted  tires,  and  were  now  apparently 
bivouacked  at  no  great  distance  from  them,  having  brought 
boards  from  below  with  that  especial  object.  Why  they 
chose  to  remain  in  this  precise  position,  and  why  they  ne 
glected  the  better  accommodations  afforded  by^some  fifteen 
or  twenty  log-cabins,  that  skirted  the  western  side  of  the 
valley  in  particular,  were  subjects  of  conjecture.  That  they 
near  the  fires  the  board  shanties  proved,  and  that  they 
were  to  the  last  degree  careless  of  the  proximity  of  the  peo 
ple  of  the  place,  would  seem  also  to  be  apparent  in  the  fact 
that  they  had  not  posted,  so  far  as  could  be  ascertained, 
even  a  solitary  sentinel. 

"  This  is  altogether  surprising  for  Indian  tactics,"  observed 
the  captain,  in  a  low  voice ;  for  everything  that  was  uttered 
that  night  without  the  building  was  said  in  very  guarded 
tones.  "  I  have  never  before  known  the  savages  to  cover 
themselves  in  that  manner;  nor  is  it  usual  with  them  to  light 
fires  to  point  out  the  positions  they  occupy,  as  these  fellows 
seem  to  have  done." 

"  Is  it  not  all  seeming,  sir?"  returned  the  major.  "To 
me  that  camp,  if  camp  it  can  be  called,  has  an  air  of  being 
deserted." 

"  There  is  a  look  about  it  of  premeditated  preparation, 
that  one  ought  always  to  distrust  in  war." 

"  Is  it  not  unmilitary,  sir,  for  two  soldiers  like  ourselves 
to  remain  in  doubt  on  such  a  point  1  My  professional  pride 
revolts  at  such  a  state  of  things ;  and,  with  your  leave,  I 
will  go  outside,  and  set  the  matter  at  rest  by  reconnoitring." 

M  Professional  pride  is  a  good  thing,  Bob,  rightly  under 
stood  and  rightly  practised.  But  the  highest  point  of  honour 
with  the  really  good  soldier  is  to  do  that  for  which  he  was 
precisely  intended.  Some  men  fancy  armies  were  got  toge 
ther  just  to  maintain  certain  exa^'Tat*  -d  notions  of  military 
honour;  whereas,  military  honour  is  nothing  but  a  moral 
expedient  to  aid  in  effecting  the  objects  for  which  they  are 
really  raised.  I  have  known  men  so  blinded  as  to  assert 
that  a  soldier  is  bound  to  maintain  his  honour  at  the  expense 


212  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

of  the  law ;  and  this  in  face  of  the  fact  that,  in  a  free  coun 
try,  a  soldier  is  in  truth  nothing  but  one  of  the  props  of  the 
law,  in  the  last  resort.  So  with  us ;  we  are  here  to  defend 
this  house,  and  those  it  contains ;  and  our  military  honour 
is  far  more  concerned  in  doing  that  effectually,  and  by  right 
means,  than  in  running  the  risk  of  not  doing  it  at  all,  in 
order  to  satisfy  an  abstract  and  untenable  notion  of  a  false 
code.  Let  us  do  what  is  right,  my  son,  and  feel  no  concern 
that  our  honour  suffer." 

Captain  Willoughby  said  this,  because  he  fancied  it  a. 
fault  in  his  son's  character,  sometimes  to  confound  the  end 
with  the  means,  in  appreciating  the  ethics  of  his  profession. 
This  is  not  an  uncommon  error  among  those  who  bear 
arms,  instances  not  being  wanting  in  which  bodies  of  men 
that  are  the  mere  creatures  of  authority,  have  not  hesitated 
to  trample  the  power  that  brought  them  into  existence  under 
foot,  rather  than  submit  to  mortify  the  feelings  of  a  purely 
conventional  and  exaggerated  pride.  The  major  was  rebuked 
rather  than  convinced,  it  not  being  the  natural  vocation  of 
youth  to  perceive  the  justice  of  all  the  admonitions  of  age. 

"But,  if  one  can  be  made  auxiliary  to  the  other,  sir,"  the 
son  remarked,  "  then  you  will  allow  that  professional  esprit^ 
and  professional  prudence,  may  very  well  march  hand  in 
hand." 

"  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt,  though  I  think  it  far 
wiser  and  more  soldier-like,  even,  to  use  all  proper  precau 
tions  to  guard  this  house,  under  our  actual  circumstances, 
than  to  risk  anything  material  in  order  to  satisfy  our  doubts 
concerning  the  state  of  that  camp." 

"  But  the  cabins,  and  all  the  property  that  lies  exposed  to 
fire  and  other  accidents,  including  the  mills  ?  Js  it  not  worth 
your  while  to  let  me  make  a  little  excursion,  in  order  to 
ascertain  the  state  of  things,  as  connected  with  them  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  would,  Bob"  —  returned  the  father,  after  a 
little  reflection.  "  It  would  be  a  great  point  gained,  to  send 
a  man  to  look  after  the  buildings,  and  the  horses.  The  poor 
beasts  may  be  suffering  for  water;  and,  as  you  say,  the  first 
thing  will  be  to  ascertain  where  our  wild  visiters  really  are, 
and  what  thej  are  actually  bent  on.  Woods,  go  with  us  to 
the  gate,  and  let  us  out.  I  rely  on  your  saying  nothing  of 
our  absence,  except  to  explain  to  the  two  nearest  sentinels 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  213 

who  we  are,  and  to  be  on  the  look-out  for  us,  against  the 
moment  we  may  return." 

"  Will  it  not  be  very  hazardous  to  be  moving  in  front  of 
the  stockade,  in  the  darkl  Some  of  our  own  people  may 
lire  upon  you." 

"  You  will  tell  them  to  be  cautious,  and  we  shall  use  great 
circumspection  in  our  turn.  I  had  better  give  you  a  signal 
by  which  wo  shall  be  known." 

This  was  done,  and  the  party  moved  from  under  the 
shadows  of  the  Hut,  down  to  the  gate.  Here  the  two  soldiers 
halted  for  several  minutes,  taking  a  deliberate  and  as  tho 
rough  a  survey  of  the  scene  without,  as  the  darkness  per 
mitted.  Then  the  chaplain  opened  the  gate,  and  they  issued 
forth,  moving  with  great  caution  down  the  lawn,  towards 
the  flats.  As  a  matter  of  course,  captain  Willoughby  was 
perfectly  familiar  with  all  the  lanes,  ditches,  bridges  and 
fields  of  his  beautiful  possessions.  The  alluvial  soil  that 
lay  spread  around  him  was  principally  the  result  of  ages  of 
deposit  while  the  place  was  covered  with  water  ;  but,  as  the 
overflowing  of  the  water  had  been  produced  by  a  regular 
dam,  the  latter  once  removed,  the  meadows  were  free  from 
the  excessive  moisture  which  generally  saturates  drained 
lands.  Still,  there  were  two  or  three  large  open  ditches,  to 
collect  the  water  that  came  down  the  adjacent  mountains, 
or  bubbled  up  from  springs  near  the  margin  of  the  woods. 
Across  these  ditches  the  roads  led,  by  bridges,  and  the 
whole  valley  was  laid  out,  in  this  manner,  equally  with  a 
view  to  convenience  and  rural  beauty.  A  knowledge  of  all 
the  windings  was  of  great  use,  on  the  present  occasion, 
even  on  the  advance ;  while,  on  the  retreat,  it  might  clearly 
be  the  means  of  preserving  the  lives,  or  liberties,  of  the  two 
adventurers. 

The  captain  did  not  proceed  by  the  principal  road  which 
led  from  the  Hut  to  the  mills,  the  great  thoroughfare  of  the 
vallry,  since  it  might  be  watched,  in  order  to  prevent  A 
hostile  sortie  against  the  camp ;  but  he  inclined  to  th<;  right, 
or  to  the  westward,  in  order  to  visit  the  cabins  and  barns 
in  that  quartor.  It  struck  him  his  invaders  might  have 
quietly  taken  possession  of  the  houses,  or  even  have  stolen 
his  horses  and  decamped.  In  this  direction,  then,  he  and 
his  son  proceeded,  using  the  greatest  caution  in  their  move- 


214  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

ments,  and  occasionally  stopping  to  examine  the  waning 
fires  at  the  rock,  or  to  throw  a  glance  behind  them  at  the 
stockade.  Everything  remained  in  the  quiet  which  renders 
a  forest  settlement  so  solemn  and  imposing,  after  the  daily 
movements  of  man  have  ceased.  The  deepest  and  most 
breathless  attention  could  not  catch  an  unaccustomed  sound. 
Even  the  bark  of  a  dog  was  not  heard,  all  those  useful  ani 
mals  having  followed  their  masters  into  the  Hut,  as  if  con 
scious  that  their  principal  care  now  lay  in  that  direction. 
Each  of  the  sentinels  had  one  of  these  animals  near  him, 
crouched  under  the  stockade,  in  the  expectation  of  their 
giving  the  alarm,  should  any  strange  footstep  approach. 
In  this  manner  most  of  the  distance  between  the  Knoll  and 
the  forest  was  crossed,  when  the  major  suddenly  laid  a  hand 
on  his  father's  arm. 

"  Here  is  something  stirring  on  our  left,"  whispered  the 
former — "  It  seems,  too,  to  be  crouching  under  the  fence." 

"  You  have  lost  your  familiarity  with  our  rural  life,  Bob," 
answered  the  father,  with  a  little  more  confidence  of  tone, 
but  still  guardedly,  "  or  this  fragrant  breath  would  tell  you 
we  are  almost  on  a  cow.  It  is  old  Whiteback  ;  I  know  her 
by  her  horns.  Feel ;  she  is  here  in  the  lane  with  us,  and 
within  reach  of  your  hand.  A  gentler  animal  is  not  in  the 
settlement.  But,  stop — pass  your  hand  on  her  udder — she 
will  not  stir — how  is  it,  full  or  not  ?" 

"  If  I  can  judge,  sir,  it  is  nothing  remarkable  in  the  way 
of  size." 

"  I  understand  this  better.  By  Jupiter,  boy,  that  cow  has 
been  milked  !  It  is  certain  none  of  our  people  have  left  the 
house  to  do  it,  since  the  alarm  was  first  given.  This  is 
ominous  of  neighbours." 

The  major  made  no  reply,  but  he  felt  to  ascertain  if  his 
arms  were  in  a  state  for  immediate  service.  After  a  mo 
ment's  further  pause  the  captain  proceeded,  moving  with 
increased  caution.  Not  a  word  was  now  uttered,  for  they 
were  getting  within  the  shadows  of  the  orchard,  and  indeed 
of  the  forest,  where  objects  could  not  well  be  distinguished 
at  the  distance  of  a  very  few  yards.  A  cabin  was  soon 
reached,  and  it  was  found  empty  ;  the  fire  reduced  to  a  few 
embers,  and  quite  safe.  This  was  the  residence  of  the  man 
who  had  the  care  of  the  horses,  the  stables  standing  directly 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  215 

behind  it.  Captain  Willoughby  was  a  thoughtful  and  humano 
man,  and  it  struck  him  the  animals  might  now  be  turned 
into  a  field  that  joined  the  barn-yard,  where  there  was  not 
only  rich  pasture,  but  plenty  of  sweet  running  water.  This 
termioed  to  do  at  once,  the  only  danger  being  from 
the  unbridled  inov«  m«-nts  of  cattle  that  must  be  impatient 
from  unusual  privation,  and  a  prolonged  restraint. 

The  major  opened  the  gate  of  the  field,  and  stationed  him- 
self  in  a  way  to  turn  the  animals  in  the  desired  direction, 
while  his  father  went  into  the  stable  to  set  them  free.  Tho 
first  horse  came  out  with  great  deliberation,  being  an  old 
animal  well  cooled  with  toil  at  the  plough,  and  the  major 
had  merely  to  swing  his  arm,  to  turn  him  into  the  field.  Not 
so  with  the  next,  however.  This  was  little  better  than  a  colt, 
a  creature  in  training  for  his  master's  saddle  ;  and  no  sooner 
was  it  released  than  it  plunged  into  the  yard,  then  bounded 
into  the  field,  around  which  it  galloped,  until  it  found  the 
water.  The  others  imitated  this  bad  example ;  the  clatter 
of  hoofs,  though  beaten  on  a  rich  turf,  soon  resounding  in 
the  stillness  of  the  night,  until  it  might  be  heard  across  the 
valley.  The  captain  then  rejoined  his  son. 

"  This  is  a  good  deed  somewhat  clumsily  done,  Bob," 
observed  the  father,  as  he  picked  up  his  rifle  and  prepared 
to  proceed.  "  An  Indian  ear,  however,  will  not  fail  to  dis 
tinguish  between  the  tramping  of  horses  and  a  charge  of 
foot." 

"  Faith,  sir,  the  noise  may  serve  us  a  good  turn  yet.  Let 
us  take  another  look  at  the  fires,  and  see  if  this  tramping 
has  set  any  one  in  motion  near  them.  We  can  get  a  glimpse 
a  little  further  ahead." 

The  look  was  taken,  but  nothing  was  seen.  While  stand 
ing  perfectly  motionless,  beneath  the  shadows  of  an  apple- 
tree,  however,  a  sound  was  heard  quite  near  them,  which 
resembled  that  of  a  guarded  footstep.  Both  gentlemen  d:vw 
up,  like  sportsmen  expecting  the  birds  to  rise,  in  waiting  for 
the  sound  to  approach.  It  did  draw  nearer,  and  presently 
a  human  form  was  seen  moving  slowly  forward  in  the  path, 
approaching  the  tree,  as  if  to  get  within  its  cover.  It  was 
allowed  to  draw  nearer  and  nearer,  until  captain  Willoughby 
laid  his  hand,  from  behind  the  trunk,  on  the  stranger's 


216  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

shoulder,  demanding  sternly,  but  in  a  low  voice,  "  who  aro 
you?" 

The  start,  the  exclamation,  and  the  tremor  that  succeeded, 
all  denoted  the  extent  of  this  man's  surprise.  It  was  some 
little  time,  even,  before  he  could  recover  from  his  alarm, 
and  then  he  let  himself  be  known  by  his  answer. 

"  Massy !"  exclaimed  Joel  Strides,  who  ordinarily  gave 
this  doric  sound  to  the  word  '  mercy' — "  Massy,  captain,  is 
it  you  !  I  should  as  soon  thought  of  seeing  a  ghost !  What 
in  natur'  has  brought  you  out  of  the  stockade,  sir?" 

"  I  think  that  is  a  question  I  might  better  ask  you,  Mr. 
Strides.  My  orders  were  to  keep  the  gate  close,  and  for  no 
one  to  quit  the  court-yard  even,  until  sent  on  post,  or  called 
by  an  alarm." 

"  True,  sir — quite  true — true  as  gospel.  But  let  us  mo 
derate  a  little,  captain,  and  speak  lower ;  for  the  Lord  only 
knows  who 's  in  our  neighbourhood.  Who  's  that  with  you, 
sir7_Not  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods,  is  it?" 

"  No  matter  who  is  with  me.  He  has  the  authority  of  my 
commands  for  being  here,  whoever  he  may  be,  while  you 
are  here  in  opposition  to  them.  You  know  me  well  enough, 
Joel,  to  understand  nothing  but  the  simple  truth  will  satisfy 
me." 

"  Lord,  sir,  I  am  one  of  them  that  never  wish  to  tell  you 
anything  but  truth.  The  captain  has  known  me  now  long 
enough  to  understand  my  natur',  I  should  think ;  so  no  more 
need  be  said  about  that" 

"  Well,  sir — give  me  the  reason — and  see  that  it  is  given 
to  me  without  reserve." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  captain  shall  have  it.  He  knows  we 
scrambled  out  of  our  houses  this  afternoon  a  little  onthink- 
ingly,  Injin  alarms  being  skeary  matters.  It  was  an  awful 
hurrying  time  !  Well,  the  captain  understands,  too,  we  don't 
work  for  him  without  receiving  our  wages ;  and  I  have  been 
"aying  up  a  little,  every  year,  until  I  've  scraped  together  a 
few  hundred  dollars,  in  good  half-joes ;  and  I  bethought  me 
the  money  might  be  in  danger,  should  the  savages  begin  to 
plunder ;  and  I 've  just  came  out  to  look  a'ter  the  money." 

"  If  this  be  true,  as  I  hope  and  can  easily  believe  to  be 
the  case,  you  must  have  the  money  about  you,  Joel,  to 
prove  it." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  217 

The  man  stretched  forth  his  arm,  and  let  the  captain  feel 
a  handkerchief,  in  which,  sure  enough,  there  was  a  goodly 
quantity  of  coin.  This  gave  him  credit  for  truth,  and  re 
moved  all  suspicion  of  his  present  excursion  being  mado 
with  any  sinister  intention.  The  man  was  questioned  as 
to  his  mode  of  passing  the  stockade,  when  he  confessed  he 
had  fairly  clambered  over  it,  an  exploit  of  no  great  difficulty 
from  the  inside.  As  the  captain  had  known  Joel  too  long  to 
be  ignorant  of  his  love  of  money,  and  the  offence  was  very 
pardonable  in  itself,  he  readily  forgave  the  breach  of  orders. 
This  was  the  only  man  in  the  valley  who  did  not  trust  his 
little  hoard  in  the  iron  chest  at  the  Hut ;  even  the  miller 
reposing  that  much  confidence  in  the  proprietor  of  the  estate ; 
but  Joel  was  too  conscious  of  dishonest  intentions  himself 
to  put  any  unnecessary  faith  in  others. 

All  this  time,  the  major  kept  so  far  aloof  as  not  to  be  re 
cognised,  though  Joel,  once  or  twice,  betrayed  symptoms  of 
a  desire  to  ascertain  who  he  was.  Maud  had  awakened 
suspicions  that  now  became  active,  in  both  father  and  son, 
when  circumstances  so  unexpectedly  and  inconveniently 
threw  the  man  in  their  way.  It  was  consequently  the  wish 
of  the  former  to  get  rid  of  his  overseer  as  soon  as  possible. 
Previously  to  doing  this,  however,  he  saw  fit  to  interrogate 
him  a  little  further. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  Indians  since  you  left 
the  stockade,  Strides  ?"  demanded  the  captain.  "  We  can 
perceive  no  other  traces  of  their  presence  than  yonder  fires, 
though  we  think  that  some  of  them  must  have  passed  this 
way,  for  Whiteback's  udder  is  empty." 

"  To  own  the  truth,  captain,  I  haven't.  I  some  think 
that  they  Ve  left  the  valley  ;  though  the  Lord  only  can  tell 
when  they'll  be  back  ag'in.  Such  critturs  be  beyond  calci- 
lation  !  They  outdo  arithmetic,  nohow.  As  for  the  cow,  I 
milked  her  myself;  for  being  the  crittur  the  captain  has 
given  to  Phoebe  for  her  little  dairy,  I  thought  it  might  hurt 
her  not  to  be  attended  to.  The  pail  stands  yonder,  under 
the  fence,  and  the  women  and  children  in  the  Hut  may  be 
glad  enough  to  s«e  it  in  the  morning." 

This  was  very  characteristic  of  Joel  Strides.  He  did  not 
hesitate  about  disobeying  orders,  or  even  to  risk  his  life,  in 
order  to  secure  his  money ;  but,  determined  to  come  out,  he 

VOL.  L  — 19 


218  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

had  the  forethought  and  care  to  bring  a  pail,  in  order  to 
supply  the  wants  of  those  who  were  now  crowded  within 
the  stockade,  and  who  were  too  much  accustomed  to  this 
particular  sort  of  food,  not  to  suffer  from  its  absence.  If  we 
add,  that,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  prudent  attention  to  the 
wants  of  his  companions,  Joel  had  an  eye  to  his  personal 
popularity  and  what  are  called  "  ulterior  events,"  and  that 
he  selected  his  own  cow  for  the  precise  reason  given,  the 
reader  has  certain  distinctive  traits  of  the  man  before  him. 

"  This  being  the  case,"  returned  the  captain,  a  good  deal 
relieved  at  finding  that  the  savages  had  not  been  the  agents 
in  this  milking  affair,  since  it  left  the  probability  of  their 
remaining  stationary — "  This  being  the  case,  Joel,  you  had 
better  find  the  pail,  and  go  in.  As  soon  as  day  dawns,  how 
ever,  I  recommend  that  all  the  cows  be  called  up  to  the 
stockade  and  milked  generally.  They  are  feeding  in  the 
lanes,  just  now,  and  will  come  readily,  if  properly  invited. 
Go,  then,  but  say  nothing  of  having  met  me,  and " 

"  Who  else  did  the  captain  say  ?"  inquired  Joel,  curiously, 
observing  that  the  other  paused. 

"  Say  nothing  of  having  met  us  at  all,  I  tell  you.  It  is 
very  important  that  my  movements  should  be  secret." 

The  two  gentlemen  now  moved  on,  intending  to  pass  in 
front  of  the  cabins  which  lined  this  part  of  the  valley,  by  a 
lane  which  would  bring  them  out  at  the  general  highway 
which  led  from  the  Knoll  to  the  mill.  The  captain  marched 
in  front,  while  his  son  brought  up  the  rear,  at  a  distance  of 
two  or  three  paces.  Each  walked  slowly  and  with  caution, 
carrying  his  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  in  perfect  readi 
ness  for  service.  In  this  manner  both  had  proceeded  a  few 
yards,  when  Robert  Willoughby  felt  his  elbow  touched,  and 
saw  Joel's  face,  within  eighteen  inches  of  his  own,  as  the 
fellow  peered  under  his  hat.  It  was  an  action  so  sudden 
and  unexpected,  that  the  major  saw,  at  once,  nothing  but 
perfect  coolness  could  avert  his  discovery. 

"  Is 't  you,  Dan'el" — so  was  the  miller  named.  "  What 
in  natur'  has  brought  the  old  man  on  this  tramp,  with  the 
valley  filled  with  Inj ins?"  whispered  Joel,  prolonging  the 
speech  in  order  to  get  a  better  view  of  a  face  and  form  that 
still  baffled  his  conjectures.  "  Let 's  know  all  about  it." 

"You'll  get  me  into  trouble,"  answered  the  major,  shaking 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  219 

off  his  unwelcome  neighbour,  moving  a  step  further  from 
him,  and  speaking  also  in  a  whisper.  "  The  captain's  bent 
on  a  scout,  and  you  know  he'll  not  bear  contradiction.  Off 
with  you,  then,  and  don't  forget  the  milk." 

As  the  major  moved  away,  and  seemed  determined  to 
baflle  him,  Joel  had  no  choice  between  complying  and  ex 
posing  his  disobedience  of  orders  to  the  captain.  He  disliked 
doing  the  last,  for  his  cue  was  to  seem  respectful  and  at 
tached,  and  he  was  fain  to  submit.  Never  before,  however, 
did  Joel  Strides  suffer  a  man  to  slip  through  his  fingers  with 
so  much  reluctance.  He  saw  that  the  captain's  companion 
was  not  the  miller,  while  the  disguise  was  too  complete  to 
enable  him  to  distinguish  the  person  or  face.  In  that  day, 
the  different  classes  of  society  were  strongly  distinguished 
from  each  other,  by  their  ordinary  attire;  and,  accustomed 
to  see  major  Willoughby  only  in  the  dress  that  belonged  to 
his  station,  he  would  not  be  likely  to  recognise  him  in  his 
present  guise,  had  he  even  known  of  or  suspected  his  visit. 
As  it  was,  he  was  completely  at  fault ;  satisfied  it  was  not 
his  friend  Daniel,  while  unable  to  say  who  it  was. 

In  this  doubting  state  of  mind,  Joel  actually  forgot  the  sav 
ages,  and  the  risks  he  might  run  from  their  proximity, 
lie  walked,  as  it  might  be  mechanically,  to  the  place  where 
he  had  left  the  pail,  and  then  proceeded  slowly  towards  the 
Knoll,  pondering  at  every  step  on  what  he  had  just  seen. 
He  and  the  miller  had  secret  communications  with  certain 
active  agents  of  the  revolutionists,  that  put  them  in  posses 
sion  of  facts,  notwithstanding  their  isolated  position,  with 
which  even  their  employer  was  totally  unacquainted.  It  is 
true,  these  agents  were  of  that  low  caste  that  never  fail  to 
attach  themselves  to  all  great  political  enterprises,  with  a 
sole  view  to  their  own  benefit ;  still,  as  they  were  active, 
cunning  and  bold,  and  had  the  sagacity  to  make  themselves 
useful,  they  passed  in  the  throng  of  patriots  created  by  the 
times,  and  were  enabled  to  impart  to  men  of  similar  spirits 
much  available  information. 

It  was  through  means  like  these,-  that  Joel  knew  of  the 
all-important  measure  of  the  declaration  of  independence, 
while  it  still  remained  a  secret  to  captain  Willoughby.  The 
hope  of  confiscations  was  now  active  in  the  bosoms  of  all  this 
set,  and  many  of  them  had  even  selected  the  portions  of 


220  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

property  that  they  intended  should  be  the  reward  of  their 
own  love  of  freedom  and  patriotism.  It  has  been  said  that 
the  English  ministry  precipitated  the  American  revolution, 
with  a  view  to  share,  among  their  favourites,  the  estates 
that  it  was  thought  it  would  bring  within  the  gift  of  the 
crown,  a  motive  so  heinous  as  almost  to  defy  credulity,  and 
which  may  certainly  admit  of  rational  doubts.  On  the  other 
hand,  however,  it  is  certain  that  individuals,  who  will  go 
down  to  posterity  in  company  with  the  many  justly  illus 
trious  names  that  the  events  of  1776  have  committed  to 
history,  were  actuated  by  the  most  selfish  inducements, 
and,  in  divers  instances,  enriched  themselves  with  the  wrecks 
of  estates  that  formerly  belonged  to  their  kinsmen  or  friends. 
Joel  Strides  was  of  too  low  a  class  to  get  his  name  enrolled 
very  high  on  the  list  of  heroes,  nor  was  he  at  all  ambitious 
of  any  such  distinction  ;  but  he  was  not  so  low  that  he  could 
not  and  did  not  aspire  to  become  the  owner  of  the  property 
of  the  Hutted  Knoll.  In  an  ordinary  state  of  society,  so 
high  a  flight  would  seem  irrational  in  so  low  an  aspirant ; 
but  Joel  came  of  a  people  who  seldom  measure  their  preten 
sions  by  their  merits,  and  who  imagine  that  to  boldly  aspire, 
more  especially  in  the  way  of  money,  is  the  first  great  step 
to  success.  The  much  talked  of  and  little  understood  doc 
trine  of  political  equality  has  this  error  to  answer  for,  in 
thousands  of  cases ;  for  nothing  can  be  more  hopeless,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  than  to  convince  a  man  of  the  necessity 
of  possessing  qualities  of  whose  existence  he  has  not  even  a 
faint  perception,  ere  he  may  justly  pretend  to  be  put  on  a 
level  with  the  high-minded,  the  just,  the  educated,  and  the 
good.  Joel,  therefore,  saw  no  other  reason  than  the  law, 
against  his  becoming  the  great  landlord,  as  well  as  captain 
Willoughby  ;  and  could  the  law  be  so  moulded  as  to  answer 
his  purposes,  he  had  discreetly  resolved  to  care  for  no  other 
considerations.  The  thought  of  the  consequences  to  Mrs. 
Willoughby  and  her  daughters  gave  him  no  concern  what 
ever  ;  they  had  already  possessed  the  advantages  of  their 
situation  so  long,  as  to  give  Phoebe  and  the  miller's  wife  a 
sort  of  moral  claim  to  succeed  them.  In  a  word,  Joel,  in 
his  yearnings  after  wealth,  had  only  faintly  shadowed  forth 
the  modern  favourite  doctrine  of  "  rotation  in  office." 
The  appearance  of  a  stranger  in  company  with  captain 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  221 

Willoughby  could  not  fail,  therefore,  to  give  rise  to  many 
ronjtvtiuvs  in  the  mind  of  a  man  whose  daily  and  hourly 
thoughts  were  running  on  these  important  changes.  "  Who 
can  it  he,"  thought  Joel,  as  he  crawled  along  the  lane,  bear 
ing  the  milk,  and  lilting  one  leg  after  the  other,  as  if  lead 
were  fastened  to  his  feet.  "  Dan'el  it  is  not — nor  is  it  any 
one  that  I  can  consait  on,  about  the  Hut.  The  captain  is 
mightily  strengthened  by  this  marriage  of  his  da'ter  with 
colonel  Beekman,  that 's  sartain.  The  colonel  stands  won 
derful  well  with  our  folks,  and  he'll  not  let  all  this  firsi-iate 
land,  with  such  capital  betterments,  go  out  of  the  family 
without  an  iffort,  I  conclude  —  but  then  I  calcilate  on  his 
being  killed  —  there  must  be  a  dispcrate  lot  on  'em  shot, 
afore  the  war's  over,  and  he  is  as  likely  to  be  among  'em  as 
another.  Dan'el  thinks  the  colonel  has  the  look  of  a  short 
lived  man.  Waal ;  to-morrow  will  bring  about  a  knowledge 
of  the  name  of  the  captain's  companion,  and  then  a  body 
may  calcilate  with  greater  sartainty  1" 

This  is  but  an  outline  of  what  passed  through  Joel's  mind 
as  he  moved  onward.  It  will  serve,  however,  to  let  the 
reader  into  the  secret  of  his  thoughts,  as  well  as  into  their 
ordinary  train,  and  is  essentially  connected  with  some  of 
the  succeeding  events  of  our  legend.  As  the  overseer  ap 
proached  the  stockade,  his  ideas  were  so  abstracted  that  he 
forgot  the  risk  he  ran  ;  but  walking  carelessly  towards  the 
palisades,  the  dogs  barked,  and  then  he  was  saluted  by  a 
shot.  This  effectually  aroused  Joel,  who  called  out  in  his 
natural  voice,  and  probably  saved  his  life  by  so  doing.  The 
report  of  the  rifle,  however,  produced  an  alarm,  and  by  tha 
time  the  astounded  overseer  had  staggered  up  to  the  gate, 
the  men  were  pouring  out  from  the  court,  armed,  and  ex 
pecting  an  assault.  In  the  midst  of  this  scene  of  confusion, 
the  chaplain  admitted.  Joel,  as  much  astonished  as  the  man 
himself,  at  the  whole  of  the  unexpected  occurrence. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  many  questions  were  asked. 
Joel  got  rid  of  them,  by  simply  stating  that  he  had  gone  out 
to  milk  a  cow,  by  the  captain's  private  orders,  and  that  he 
had  forgotten  to  arrange  any  signal,  by  which  his  return 
might  be  known.  He  ventured  to  name  his  employer,  be 
cause  he  knew  he  was  not  there  to  contradict  him ;  and  Mr. 
Woods,  being  anxious  to  ascertain  if  his  two  friends  had 
19* 


222  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

been  seen,  sent  the  men  back  to  their  lairs,  without  delay, 
detaining  the  overseer  at  the  gate  for  a  minute's  private 
discourse.  As  the  miller  obeyed,  with  the  rest,  he  asked 
for  the  pail  with  an  eye  to  his  own  children's  comfort ;  but, 
on  receiving  it,  he  found  it  empty !  The  bullet  had  passed 
through  it,  and  the  contents  had  escaped. 

"  Did  you  see  any  thing,  or  person,  Strides  ?"  demanded 
the  chaplain,  as  soon  as  the  two  were  alone. 

"  Lord,  Mr.  Woods,  I  met  the  captain  ! — The  sight  on  him 
came  over  me  a'most  as  cruelly  as  the  shot  from  the  rifle ; 
for  I  no  more  expected  it  than  I  do  to  see  you  rise  up  to 
heaven,  in  your  clothes,  like  Elijah  of  old.  Sure  enough, 
there  was  the  captain,  himself,  and — and " 

Here  Joel  sneezed,  repeating  the  word  "and"  several 
times,  in  hopes  the  chaplain  would  supply  the  name  he  so 
much  wished  to  hear. 

"  But  you  saw  no  savages  ? — I  know  the  captain  is  out, 
and  you  will  be  careful  not  to  mention  it,  lest  it  get  to  Mrs. 
Wiiloughby's  ears,  and  make  her  uneasy.  You  saw  nothing 
of  the  savages  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit — the  critturs  lie  cluss  enough,  if  they  haven't 
actually  tramped.  Who  did  you  say  was  with  the  captain, 
Mr.  Woods?" 

"  I  said  nothing  about  it — I  merely  asked  after  the  In 
dians,  who,  as  you  say,  do  keep  themselves  very  close. 
Well,  Joel,  go  to  your  wife,  who  must  be  getting  anxious 
about  you,  and  be  prudent." 

Thus  dismissed,  the  overseer  did  not  dare  to  hesitate;  but 
he  entered  the  court,  still  pondering  on  the  late  meeting. 

As  for  the  two  adventurers,  they  pursued  their  march  in 
silence.  As  a  matter  of  course,  they  heard  the  report  of 
the  rifle,  and  caught  some  faint  sounds  from  the  alarm  that 
succeeded ;  but,  readily  comprehending  the  cause,  they  pro 
duced  no  uneasiness ;  the  stillness  which  succeeded  soon 
satisfying  them  that  all  was  right.  By  this  time  they  were 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  flickering  fires.  The  major 
had  kept  a  strict  watch  on  the  shanties  at  the  report  of  the 
rifle ;  but  not  a  living  thing  was  seen  moving  in  their  vici 
nity.  This  induced  him  to  think  the  place  deserted,  and  he 
whispered  as  much  to  his  father. 

"  With  any  other  enemy  than  an  Indian,"  answered  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  223 

latter,  "  you  might  be  right  enough,  Bob ;  but  with  these 
rascals  one  is  never  certain.  We  must  advance  with  a  good 
deal  of  their  own  caution." 

This  was  done,  and  the  gentlemen  approached  the  fires 
in  the  most  guarded  manner,  keeping  the  shantees  between 
them  and  the  light.  By  this  time,  however,  the  flames  were 
nearly  out,  and  there  was  no  great  difficulty  in  looking  into 
the  nearest  shantee,  without  much  exposure.  It  was  de 
serted,  as  proved  to  be  the  case  with  all  the  others,  on  fur 
ther  examination.  Major  Willoughby  now  moved  about  on 
the  rock  with  greater  confidence ;  for,  naturally  brave,  and 
accustomed  to  use  his  faculties  with  self-command  in  mo 
ments  of  trial,  he  drew  the  just  distinctions  between  real 
danger  and  unnecessary  alarm ;  the  truest  of  all  tests  of 
courage. 

The  captain,  feeling  a  husband's  and  a  father's  responsi 
bility,  was  a  little  more  guarded;  but  success  soon  gave 
him  more  confidence,  and  tfie  spot  was  thoroughly  explored. 
The  two  then  descended  to  the  mills,  which,  together  with 
the  adjacent  cabins,  they  entered  also,  and  found  uninjured 
and  empty.  After  this,  several  other  suspected  points  were 
looked  at,  until  the  captain  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
party  had  retired,  for  the  night  at  least,  if  not  entirely. 
Making  a  circuit,  however,  he  and  his  son  visited  the  chapel, 
and  one  or  two  dwellings  on  that  side  of  the  valley,  when 
they  bent  their  steps  towards  the  Knoll. 

As  the  gentlemen  approached  the  stockade,  the  captain 
gave  a  loud  hem,  and  clapped  his  hands.  At  the  signal  the 
gate  flew  open,  and  they  found  themselves  in  company  with 
their  friend  the  chaplain  once  more.  A  few  words  of  ex 
planation  told  all  they  had  to  say,  and  then  the  three  passed 
into  the  court,  and  separated ;  each  taking  the  direction  to 
wards  his  own  room.  The  major,  fatigued  with  the  toils  of 
a  long  march,  was  soon  in  a  soldier's  sleep ;  but  it  was 
hours  before  his  more  thoughtful,  and  still  uneasy  father, 
could  obtain  the  rest  which  nature  so  much  requires. 


224  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

"  I  could  teach  you, 

How  to  choose  right,  but  then  I  am  forsworn; 
So  will  I  never  be;  so  may  you  miss  me; 
But  if  you  do,  you  '11  make  me  wish  a  sin 

That  I  had  been  forsworn." 

Portia. 

CAPTAIN  WILLOUGHBY  knew  that  the  hour  which  pre« 
ceded  the  return  of  light,  was  that  in  which  the  soldier  had 
the  most  to  apprehend,  when  in  the  field.  This  is  the  mo 
ment  when  it  is  usual  to  attempt  surprises ;  and  it  was,  in 
particular,  the  Indian's  hour  of  blood.  Orders  had  been 
left,  accordingly,  to  call  him  at  four  o'clock,  and  to  see  that 
all  the  men  of  the  Hut  were  afoot,  and  armed  also.  Not 
withstanding  the  deserted  appearance  of  the  valley,  this  ex 
perienced  frontier  warrior  distrusted  the  signs  of  the  times  ; 
and  he  looked  forward  to  the  probability  of  an  assault,  a 
little  before  the  return  of  day,  with  a  degree  of  concern  he 
would  have  been  sorry  to  communicate  to  his  wife  and 
daughters. 

Every  emergency  had  been  foreseen,  and  such  a  disposi 
tion  made  of  the  forces,  as  enabled  the  major  to  be  useful, 
in  the  event  of  an  attack,  without  exposing  himself  unneces 
sarily  to  the  danger  of  being  discovered.  He  was  to  have 
charge  of  the  defence  of  the  rear  of  the  Hut,  or  that  part  of 
the  buildings  where  the  windows  opened  outwards ;  and 
Michael  and  the  two  Plinys  were  assigned  him  as  assistants. 
Nor  was  the  ward  altogether  a  useless  one.  Though  the 
cliff  afforded  a  material  safeguard  to  this  portion  of  the  de 
fences,  it  might  be  scaled  ;  and,  it  will  be  remembered,  there 
was  no  stockade  at  all,  on  this,  the  northern  end  of  the 
house. 

When  the  men  assembled  in  the  court,  therefore,  about 
an  hour  before  the  dawn,  Robert  Willoughby  collected  his 
small  force  in  the  dining-room,  the  outer  apartment  of  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  225 

suite,  whore  he  examined  their  arms  by  lamp-light,  inspect- 
cd  their  ac.-uufrements,  and  directed  them  to  remain  until 
•1  fresh  ordi-rs.  11U  lather,  aided  by  serjeant  Joyce, 
did  th«-  same  in  the  court;  issuing  out,  through  the  i»ute  of 
the  buildings,  with  his  whole  force,  ay  soon  as  this  duty  was 
performed.  The  call  being  general,  the  women  and  children 
were  all  up  also  ;  many  of  the  former  repairing  to  the  loops, 
while  the  least  resolute,  or  the  less  experienced  of  their 
number,  administered  to  the  wants  of  the  young,  or  busied 
themselves  with  the  concerns  of  the  household.  °  In  a  word, 
tii-'  Hut,  at  that  early  hour,  resembled  a  hive  in  activity, 
though  the  different  pursuits  had  not  much  affinity  to  tho 
collection  of  honey. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Mrs.  Willoughby  and  her 
daughters  still  courted  their  pillows  on  an  occasion  like  this. 
They  rose  with  the  others,  the  grandmother  and  Bculah  be- 
stowing  their  first  care  on  the  little  Evert,  as  if  his  life  and 
safety  were  the  considerations  uppermost  in  their  thoughts. 
This  seemed  so  natural,  that  Maud  wondered  she  too  could 
not  feel  all  this  absorbing  interest  in  the  child,  a  being  so 
totally  dependent  on  the  affection  of  its  friends  and  relatives 
to  provide  for  its  wants  and  hazards,  in  an  emergency  like 
the  present. 

"  We  will  see  to  the  child,  Maud,"  observed  her  mother, 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes  after  all  were  up  and  dressed.  "  Do 
you  go  to  your  brother,  who  will  be  solitary,  alone  in  his 
citadel.  He  may  wish,  too,  to  send  some  message  to  his 
father.  Go,  then,  dear  girl,  and  help  to  keep  up  poor  Bob's 
spirits." 

What  a  service  for  Maud !     Still,  she  went,  without  hesi 
tation  or  delay ;  for  the  habits  of  her  whole  infancy  were 
not  to  be  totally  overcome  by  the  natural  and  more  engross- 
->f  her  later  years.     She  could  not  feel  pre 
cisely  the  reserve  and  self-distrust  with  one  she  had  so  loni? 
brother,  as  might  have  been  the  case  wii'h 
a  strnnnrrr  youth  in  whom  she  had  begun  to  fed  tho  ii. 
she  entertained  for  Robert  Willoughby.     But,  Maud  did  ii'.t 
•  re  about  complying.     An  order  from  her  mother  to 
her  was  law  ;  and  she  had  no  shame,  no  reserves  on  the 
subject  of  contributing  to  Bob's  comfort  or  happiness. 


226  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Her  presence  was  a  great  relief  to  the  young  man  him* 
self,  whom  she  found  in  the  library.  His  assistants  were 
posted  without,  as  sentinels  to  keep  off  intruders,  a  disposi* 
tion  that  left  him  quite  alone,  anxious  and  uneasy.  The 
only  intercourse  he  could  have  with  his  father  was  by 
means  of  messages ;  and  the  part  of  the  building  he  occu 
pied  was  absolutely  without  any  communication  with  the 
court,  except  by  a  single  door  near  the  offices,  at  which  he 
had  stationed  O'Hearn. 

"  This  is  kind,  and  like  yourself,  dearest  Maud,"  exclaim 
ed  the  young  man,  taking  the  hand  of  his  visiter,  and  press 
ing  it  in  both  his  own,  though  he  strangely  neglected  to  kisa 
her  cheek,  as  he  certainly  would  have  done  had  it  been 
Beulah — "  This  is  kind  and  like  yourself;  now  I  shall  learn 
something  of  the  state  of  the  family.  How  is  my  mother?" 
It  might  have  been  native  coyness,  or  even  coquetry,  that 
unconsciously  to  herself  influenced  Maud's  answer.  She 
knew  not  why — and  yet  she  felt  prompted  to  let  it  be  under 
stood  she  had  not  come  of  her  own  impulses. 

"  Mother  is  well,  and  not  at  all  alarmed,"  she  said.  "She 
and  Beulah  are  busy  with  little  Evert,  who  crows  and  kicks 
his  heels  about  as  if  he  despised  danger  as  becomes  a  sol 
dier's  son,  and  has  much  amused  even  me;  though  I  am 
accused  of  insensibility  to  his  perfections.  Believing  you 
might  be  solitary,  or  might  wish  to  communicate  with  some 
of  us,  my  mother  desired  me  to  come  and  inquire  into  your 
wants." 

"  Was  such  a  bidding  required,  Maud !  How  long  has 
an  order  been  necessary  to  bring  you  to  console  me  T'' 

"  That  is  a  calculation  I  .have  never  entered  into,  Bob," 
answered  Maud,  slightly  blushing,  and  openly  smiling,  and 
that  in  a  way,  too,  to  take  all  the  sting  out  of  her  words  T— 
"  as  young  ladies  can  have  more  suitable  occupations,  one 
might  think.  You  will  admit  I  guided  you  faithfully  and 
skilfully  into  the  Hut  last  evening,  and  such  a  service  should 
suffice  for  the  present.  But,  my  mother  tells  me  we  have 
proper  causes  of  complaint  against  you,  for  having  so  thought 
lessly  left  the  place  of  safety  into  which  you  were  brought, 
and  for  going  strolling  about  the  valley,  after  we  had  retired, 
in  a  very  heedless  and  boyish  manner !" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  227 

••  I  \vcnt  with  my  father;  surely  I  could  not  have  been  in 
better  company." 

"  At  his  suggestion,  or  at  your  own,  Bob?"  asked  Maud, 
shaking  her  head. 

"  To  own  the  truth,  it  was,  in  some  degree,  at  my  own. 
It  seemed  so  very  uumilitary  Tor  two  old  soldiers  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  shut  up  in  ignorance  of  what  their  enemies 
were  at,  that  I  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  make  a  little 
sortie.  You  must  feel,  dear  Maud,  that  our  motive  was  your 
safety — the  safety,  I  mean,  of  my  mother,  and  Beulah,  and 
all  of  you  together — and  yor  ought  to  be  the  last  to  blame 
us." 

The  tint  on  Maud's  cheek  deepened  as  Robert  Willoughby 
laid  so  heavy  an  emphasis  on  "  your  safety  ;"  but  she  could 
not  smile  on  an  act  that  risked  so  much  more  than  was 
prudent. 

"  This  is  well  enough  as  to  motive,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause ;  "  but  frightfully  ill-judged,  I  should  think,  as  to  the 
risks.  You  do  not  remember  the  importance  our  dear  father 
is  to  us  all — to  my  mother — to  Beulah — even  to  me,  Bob." 

"  Even  to  youy  Maud ! — And  why  not  as  much  to  you  as 
to  any  of  us'?" 

Maud  could  speak  to  Beulah  of  her  want  of  natural  affi 
nity  to  the  family;  but,  it  far  exceeded  her  self-command  to 
make  a  direct  allusion  to  it  to  Robert  Willoughby.  Still,  it 
M  as  now  rarely  absent  from  her  mind  ;  the  love  she  bore  the 
captain  and  his  wife,  and  Beulah,  and  little  Evert,  coming 
to  her  heart  through  a  more  insidious  and  possibly  tenderer 
t'u*,  than  that  of  purely  filial  or  sisterly  affection.  It  was, 
indeed,  this  evcry-day  regard,  strangely  deepened  and  enli 
vened  by  that  collateral  feeling  we  so  freely  bestow  on  them 
who  are  bound  by  natural  lies  to  those  who  have  the  strongest 
holds  on  our  hearts,  and  which  causes  us  to  sec  with  their 
.  and  to  feel  with  their  affections.  Accordingly,  no  reply 
made  to  the  question ;  or,  rather,  it  was  answered  by 
putting  another. 

"  Did  you  see  anything,  after  all,  to  compensate  for  so 
much  risk?"  asked  Maud,  but  not  until  a  pause  had  betiay- 
ed  her  embarrassment. 

"  We  ascertained  that  the  savages  had  deserted  their  fires, 
and  had  not  entered  any  of  the  cabins.  Whether  this  were 


228  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

done  to  mislead  us,  or  to  make  a  retreat  as  sudden  and  un« 
expected  as  their  inroad,  we  are  altogether  in  the  dark.  My 
father  apprehends  treachery,  however ;  while,  I  confess,  to 
me  it  seems  probable  that  the  arrival  and  the  departure  may 
be  altogether  matters  of  accident.  The  Indians  are  in  mo- 
tion  certainly,  for  it  is  known  that  our  agents  are  busy 
among  them ;  but,  it  is  by  no  means  so  clear  that  our 
Indians  would  molest  captain  Willoughby  —  Sir  Hugh 
Willoughby,  as  my  father  is  altogether  called,  at  head 
quarters." 

"  Have  not  the  Americans  savages  on  their  side,  to  do  us 
this  ill  office?" 

"  I  think  not.  It  is  the  interest  of  the  rebels  to  keep  the 
savages  out  of  the  struggle ;  they  have  so  much  at  risk,  that 
this  species  of  warfare  can  scarcely  be  to  their  liking." 

"  And  ought  it  to  be  to  the  liking  of  the  king's  generals, 
or  ministers  either,  Bob  !" 

"  Perhaps  not,  Maud.  I  do  not  defend  it ;  but  I  have  seen 
enough  of  politics  and  war,  to  know  that  results  are  looked 
to,  far  more  than  principles.  Honour,  and  chivalry,  and 
humanity,  and  virtue,  and  right,  are  freely  used  in  terms ; 
but  seldom  do  they  produce  much  influence  on  facts.  Vic 
tory  is  the  end  aimed  at,  and  the  means  are  made  to  vary 
with  the  object." 

"And  where  is  all  we  have  read  together?  —  Yes,  toge 
ther.  Bob?  for  I  owe  you  a  great  deal  for  having  directed 
my  studies — where  is  all  we  have  read  about  the  glory  and 
truth  of  the  English  name  and  cause?" 

"  Very  much,  I  fear,  Maud,  where  the  glory  and  truth 
of  the  American  name  and  cause  will  be,  as  soon  as  this 
new  nation  shall  fairly  burst  the  shell,  and  hatch  its  public 
morality.  There  are  men  among  us  who  believe  in  this 
public  honesty,  but  I  do  not." 

"  You  are  then  engaged  in  a  bad  cause,  major  Willoughby, 
and  the  sooner  you  abandon  it,  the  better." 

"  I  would  in  a  minute,8  if  I  knew  where  to  find  a  better. 
Rely  on  it,  dearest  Maud,  all  causes  are  alike,  in  this  parti 
cular  ;  though  one  side  may  employ  instruments,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  savages,  that  the  other  side  finds  it  its  interest  to 
decry.  Men,  as  individuals,  may  be,  and  sometimes  are, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  229 

reasonably  upright — but,  bodies  of  men,  I  much  fear,  never. 
The  latter  cheapo  responsibility  by  dividing  it." 

"Still,  a  good  cause  may  elevate  even  bodies  of  men," 
said  Maud,  thoughtfully. 

"For  a  time,  perhaps ;  but  not  in  emergencies.  You  and 
I  think  it  a  good  cause,  my  good  and  frowning  Maud,  to  de 
ft-mi  the  rights  of  our  sovereign  lord  the  king.  Beulah  I 
have  given  up  to  the  enemy ;  but  on  you  I  have  implicitly 
relied." 

"  Llculah  follows  her  heart,  perhaps,  as  they  say  it  is 
natural  to  women  to  do.  As  for  myself,  I  am  left  free  to 
follow  my  own  opinion  of  my  duties." 

"  And  they  lead  you  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the  king, 
Maud  !" 

"  They  will  be  very  apt  to  be  influenced  by  the  notions 
of  a  certain  captain  Willoughby,  and  Wilhelmina,  his  wife, 
who  have  guided  me  aright  on  so  many  occasions,  that  I 
shall  not  easily  distrust  their  opinions  on  this." 

The  major  disliked  this  answer;  and  yet,  when  he  came 
to  reflect  on  it,  as  reflect  he  did  a  good  deal  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  he  was  dissatisfied  with  himself  at  being  so  un 
reasonable  as  to  expect  a  girl  of  twenty-one  not  to  think 
with  her  parents,  real  or  presumed,  in  most  matters.  At 
the  moment,  however,  he  did  not  wish  further  to  press  the 
point. 

"  I  am  glad  to  learn,  Bob,"  resumed  Maud,  looking  more 
cheerful  and  smiling,  "  that  you  met  with  no  one  in  your 
rash  sortie — for  rash  I  shall  call  it,  even  though  sanctioned 
by  my  father." 

"  1  am  wrong  in  saying  that.  We  did  meet  with  one  man, 
and  that  was  no  less  a  person  than  your  bug-bear,  Joel 
Strides  —  as  innocent,  though  as  meddling  an  overseer  as 
one  could  wish  to  employ." 

"Robert  Willoughby,  what  mean  you!  Does  this  man 
know  of  your  presence  at  the  Knoll  ?" 

"  1  should  hope  not  —  think  not."  Here  the  major  ex 
plained  all  that  is  known  to  the  reader  on  this  head.  wh»-n 
he  continued — "The  fellow's  curiosity  brought  his  face 
within  a  few  inches  of  mine;  yet  1  do  not  believe  he  recog 
nised  me.  This  disguise  is  pretty  thorough ;  and  what  be- 

VOL.  I.  — 20 


230  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

tween  his  ignorance,  the  darkness  and  the  dress,  I  must 
believe  he  was  foiled." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !"  exclaimed  Maud,  breathing  more 
freely.  "  I  have  long  distrusted  that  man,  though  he  seems 
to  possess  the  confidence  of  every  one  else.  Nejther  my 
father  nor  my  mother  will  see  him,  as  I  see  him ;  yet  to  me 
his  design  to  injure  you  is  so  clear — so  obvious  ! — I  wonder, 
often  wonder,  that  others  cannot  view  it  as  I  do.  Even 
Beulah  is  blind !" 

"  And  what  do  you  see  so  clearly,  Maud  ?  I  have  con 
sented  to  keep  myself  incog,  in  submission  to  your  earnest 
request ;  and  yet,  to  own  the  truth,  I  can  discover  no  parti 
cular  reason  why  Strides  is  to  be  distrusted  more  than  any 
one  else  in  the  valley — than  Mike,  for  instance." 

"  Mike !  I  would  answer  for  his  truth  with  my  life.  He 
will  never  betray  you,  Bob." 

"  But  why  is  Joel  so  much  the  object  of  your  distrust  ? — 
and  why  am  /  the  particular  subject  of  your  apprehen 
sions  ?" 

Maud  felt  the  tell-tale  blood  flowing  again  to  her  cheeks ; 
since,  to  give  a  simple  and  clear  reason  for  her  distrust,  ex 
ceeded  her  power.  It  was  nothing  but  the  keen  interest 
which  she  took  in  Robert  Willoughby's  safety  that  had  be 
trayed  to  her  the  truth ;  and,  as  usually  happens,  when 
anxiety  leads  the  way  in  discoveries  of  this  sort,  logical  and 
plausible  inferences  are  not  always  at  command.  Still, 
Maud  not  only  thought  herself  right,  but,  in  the  main,  she 
teas  right ;  and  this  she  felt  so  strongly  as  to  be  enabled  to 
induce  others  to  act  on  her  impressions. 

"  Why  I  believe  in  Strides'  sinister  views  is  more  than  I 
may  be  able  to  explain  to  you,  in  words,  Bob,"  she  replied, 
after  a  moment's  thought ;  "  still,  I  do  believe  in  them  as 
firmly  as  I  believe  in  my  existence.  His  looks,  his  questions, 
his  journeys,  and  an  occasional  remark,  have  all  aided  in 
influencing  the  belief;  nevertheless,  no  one  proof  may  be 
perfectly  clear  and  satisfactory.  Why  you  should  be  the 
subject  of  his  plans,  however,  is  simple  enough,  since  you 
are  the  only  one  among  us  he  can  seriously  injure.  By 
betraying  you,  he  might  gain  some  great  advantage  to  him 
self." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  231 

"To  whom  can  he  betray  mo,  dear?  My  father  is  tho 
only  person  hero,  in  any  authority,  and  of  him  I  have  no 
cause  to  be-  afraid." 

"  Yet,  you  were  so  far  alarmed  when  last  here,  as  to 
change  your  route  back  to  Boston.  If  there  were  cause  for 
apprehension  then,  the  same  reason  may  now  exist." 

"  That  was  when  many  strangers  were  in  the  valley,  and 
we  knew  not  exactly  where  we  stood.  I  have  submitted  to 
your  wishes,  however,  Maud,  and  shall  lie  perdu,  until 
there  is  a  serious  alarm ;  then  it  is  understood  I  am  to  be 
permitted  to  show  myself.  In  a  moment  of  emergency  my 
unexpected  appearance  among  the  men  might  have  a  dra 
matic  effect,  and,  of  itself,  give  us  a  victory.  But  tell  me 
of  my  prospects  —  am  I  likely  to  succeed  with  my  father  ? 
Will  he  be  brought  over  to  the  royal  cause?" 

"  I  think  not.  All  common  inducements  are  lost  on  him. 
His  baronetcy,  for  instance,  he  will  never  assume;  that, 
therefore,  cannot  entice  him.  Then  his  feelings  are  with 
his  adopted  country,  which  he  thinks  right,  and  which  he 
is  much  disposed  to  maintain ;  more  particularly  since  Beu- 
lah's  marriage,  and  our  late  intercourse  with  all  that  set. 
My  mother's  family,  too,  has  much  influence  with  him. 
They,  you  know,  are  all  whigs." 

"  Don't  prostitute  the  name,  Maud.  Whig  does  not  mean 
rebel ;  these  misguided  men  are  neither  more  nor  less  than 
rebels.  I  had  thought  this  declaration  of  independence 
would  have  brought  my  father  at  once  to  our  side." 

"  I  can  see  it  has  disturbed  him,  as  did  the  Battle  of 
Bunker's  Hill.  But  he  will  reflect  a  few  days,  and  decide 
now,  as  he  did  then,  in  favour  of  the  Americans.  He  has 
Kn^iish  partialities,  Bob,  as  is  natural  to  one  born  in  that 
country;  but,  on  this  point,  his  mind  is  very  strongly  Ame 
rican." 

"  The  accursed  Knoll  has  done  this !  Had  he  lived  in 
society,  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  among  his  equals  and 
the  educated,  we  should  now  see  him  at  the  head — Maud,  I 
know  I  can  confide  in  T/OI/." 

Maud  was  pleased  at  this  expression  of  confidence,  and 
she  looked  up  in  the  major's  face,  her  full  blue  eyes  express 
ing  no  small  portion  of  the  heartfelt  satisfaction  she  expe 
rienced.  Still,  she  said  nothing. 


232  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  You  may  well  imagine,"  the  major  continued,  "  that  I 
have  not  made  this  journey  entirely  without  an  object  —  I 
mean  some  object  more  important,  even,  than  to  see  you 
all.  The  commander-in-chief  is  empowered  to  raise  several 
regiments  in  this  country,  and  it  is  thought  useful  to  put 
men  of  influence  in  the  colonies  at  their  head.  Old  Noll 
de  Lancey,  for  instance,  so  well  known  to  us  all,  is  to  have 
a  brigade ;  and  1  have  a  letter  in  my  pocket  offering  to  Sir 
Hugh  Willoughby  one  of  his  regiments.  One  of  the  Aliens 
of  Pennsylvania,  who  was  actually  serving  against  us,  has 
thrown  up  his  commission  from  congress,  since  this  wicked 
declaration,  and  has  consented  to  take  a  battalion  from  the 
king.  What  think  you  of  all  this?  Will  it  not  have  weight 
with  my  father?" 

"  It  may  cause  him  to  reflect,  Bob ;  but  it  will  not  induce 
him  to  change  his  mind.  It  may  suit  Mr.  Oliver  de  Lancey 
to  be  a  general,  for  he  has  been  a  soldier  his  whole  life ;  but 
my  father  has  retired,  and  given  up  all  thoughts  of  service. 
He  tells  us  he  never  liked  it,  and  has  been  happier  here  at 
the  Knoll,  than  when  he  got  his  first  commission.  Mr. 
Allen's  change  of  opinion  may  be  well  enough,  he  will  say, 
but  I  have  no  need  of  change ;  I  am  here,  with  my  wife  and 
daughters,  and  have  them  to  care  for,  in  these  troubled 
times.  What  think  you  he  said,  Bob,  in  one  of  his  conver 
sations  with  us,  on  this  very  subject  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  imagine — though  I  rather  fear  it  was 
some  wretched  political  stuff  of  the  day." 

"  So  far  from  this,  it  was  good  natural  feeling  that  be 
longs,  or  ought  to  belong  to  all  days,  and  all  ages,"  answer 
ed  Maud,  her  voice  trembling  a  little  as  she  proceeded. 
1  There  is  my  son,'  he  said ;  '  one  soldier  is  enough  in  a 
family  like  this.  He  keeps  all  our  hearts  anxious,  and  may 
cause  them  all  to  mourn.' " 

Major  Willoughby  was  mute  for  quite  a  minute,  looking 
rebuked  and  thoughtful. 

"  I  fear  I  do  cause  my  parents  concern,"  he  at  length  an 
swered  ;  "  and  why  should  I  endeavour  to  increase  that  of 
my  excellent  mother,  by  persuading1  her  husband  to  return 
to  the  profession?  If  this  were  ordinary  service,  I  could  not 
think  of  it.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ought  to  think  of  it.  as 
it  is!" 


TUB     HUTTED     KNOLL.  233 

uDo  not,  dear  Roh-rt.  \Ve  arc  all  —  that  is,  mother  is 
often  miserable  on  your  account;  and  why  would  you  in 
crease  her  sorrows  ?  Remember  that  to  tremble  for  one  life 
is  sufficient  for  a  woman." 

"  My  mother  is  miserable  on  my  account !"  answered  the 
young  man,  who  was  thinking  of  anything  but  his  fathi-r, 
at  that  instant.  "  Does  Beulah  never  express  concern  for 
me?  or  have  her  new  ties  completely  driven  her  brother 
from  her  recollection  ?  I  know  she  can  scarce  wish  me  suc 
cess  ;  but  she  might  still  feel  some  uneasiness  for  an  only 
brother.  We  are  but  two " 

Maud  started,  as  if  some  frightful  object  glared  before  her 
eyes ;  then  she  sat  in  breathless  silence,  resolute  to  hear  what 
would  come  next.  But  Robert  Willoughby  meant  to  pursue 
that  idea  no  farther.  He  had  so  accustomed  himself — had 
endeavoured  even  so  to  accustom  himself  to  think  of  Beulah 
as  his  only  sister,  that  the  words  escaped  him  unconsciously. 
They  were  no  sooner  uttered,  however,  than  the  recollection 
of  their  possible  effect  on  Maud  crossed  his  mind.  Profoundly 
ignorant  of  the  true  nature  of  her  feelings  towards  himself, 
he  had  ever  shrunk  from  a  direct  avowal  of  his  own  senti 
ments,  lest  he  might  shock  her;  as  a  sister's  ear  would 
naturally  be  wounded  by  a  declaration  of  attachment  from 
a  brother;  and  there  were  bitter  moments  when  he  fancied 
delicacy  and  honour  would  oblige  him  to  carry  his  secret 
with  him  to  the  grave.  Two  minutes  of  frank  communica 
tion  might  have  dissipated  all  these  scruples  for  ever ;  but, 
how  to  obtain  those  minutes,  or  how  to  enter  on  the  subject 
at  all,  were  obstacles  that  often  appeared  insurmountable  to 
the  young  man.  As  for  Maud,  she  but  imperfectly  under 
stood  her  own  heart  —  true,  she  had  conscious  glimpses  of 
il  state;  but,  it  was  through  those  sudden  and  ungo 
vernable  impulses  that  were  so  strangely  mingled  with  her 
affections.  It  was  years,  indeed,  since  she  had  ceased  to 
think  of  Robert  Willoughby  as  a  brother,  and  had  begun  to 
vi'-w  him  with  different  eyes ;  still,  she  struggled  with  her 
feelings,  as  against  a  weakness.  The  captain  and  his  wife 
were  her  parents;  Beulah  her  dearly,  dearly  beloved  sister ; 
little  Evert  her  nephew ;  and  even  the  collaterals,  in  and 
about  Albany,  came  in  for  a  due  share  of  her  regard  ;  while 
Bob,  though  called  Bob  as  before ;  though  treated  with  a 
20* 


234  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

large  portion  of  the  confidence  that  was  natural  to  the 
intimacy  of  her  childhood ;  though  loved  with  a  tenderness 
he  would  have  given  even  his  high-prized  commission  to 
know,  was  no  longer  thought  of  as  a  brother.  Often  did 
Maud  find  herself  thinking,  if  never  saying,  "  Beulah  may 
do  that,  for  Beulah  is  his  sister ;  but  it  would  be  wrong  in  me. 
I  may  write  to  him,  talk  freely  and  even  confidentially  with 
him,  and  be  affectionate  to  him ;  all  this  is  right,  and  I  should 
be  the  most  ungrateful  creature  on  earth  to  act  differently  ; 
but  I  cannot  sit  on  his  knee  as  Beulah  sometimes  does ;  I 
cannot  throw  my  arms  around  his  neck  when  I  kiss  him, 
as  Beulah  does ;  I  cannot  pat  his  cheek,  as  Beulah  does, 
when  he  says  anything  to  laugh  at ;  nor  can  I  pry  into  his 
secrets,  as  Beulah  does,  or  affects  to  do,  to  tease  him.  I 
should  be  more  reserved  with  one  who  has  not  a  drop  of 
my  blood  in  his  veins — no,  not  a  single  drop."  In  this  way, 
indeed,  Maud  was  rather  fond  of  disclaiming  any  consan 
guinity  with  the  family  of  Willoughby,  even  while  she 
honoured  and  loved  its  two  heads,  as  parents.  The  long 
pause  that  succeeded  the  major's  broken  sentence  was  only 
interrupted  by  himself. 

"  It  is  vexatious  to  be  shut  up  here,  in  the  dark,  Maud," 
he  said,  "  when  every  minute  may  bring  an  attack.  This 
side  of  the  house  might  be  defended  by  you  and  Beulah, 
aided  and  enlightened  by  the  arm  and  counsels  of  that 
young  'son  of  liberty,'  little  Evert;  whereas  the  stockade 
in  front  may  really  need  the  presence  of  men  who  have 
some  knowledge  of  the  noble  art.  I  wish  there  were  a  look 
out  to  the  front,  that  one  might  at  least  see  the  danger  as  it 
approached." 

"  If  your  presence  is  not  indispensable  here,  I  can  lead 
you  to  my  painting-room,  where  there  is  a  loop  directly  op 
posite  to  the  gate.  That  half  of  the  garrets  has  no  one 
in  it." 

The  major  accepted  the  proposal  with  joy,  and  forthwith 
he  proceeded  to  issue  a  few  necessary  orders  to  his  subordi 
nates,  before  he  followed  Maud.  When  all  was  ready,  the 
latter  led  the  way,  carrying  a  small  silver  lamp  that  she 
had  brought  with  her  on  entering  the  library.  The  reader 
already  understands  that  the  Hut  was  built  around  a  court ; 
the  portion  of  the  building  in  the  rear,  or  on  the  cliff,  alone 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  235 

having  windows  that  opened  outward.  Tins  was  as  true  of 
the  roofs  as  of  the  perpendicular  parts  of  the  structure,  tho 
only  exceptions  being  in  the  loops  that  had  been  cut  in  the 
half-story,  beneath  the  eaves.  Of  course,  the  garrets  were 
very  extensive.  They  were  occupied  in  part,  however,  by 
small  rooms,  with  dormer-windows,  the  latter  of  which 
opened  on  the  court,  with  the  exception  of  those  above  the 
cliff  It  was  on  the  roofs  of  these  windows  that  captain 
Willoughby  had  laid  his  platform,  or  walk,  with  a  view  to 
extinguish  fires,  or  to  defend  the  place.  There  were  many 
rooms  also  that  were  lighted  only  by  the  loops,  and  which, 
of  course,  were  on  the  outer  side  of  the  buildings.  In  addi 
tion  to  these  arrangements,  the  garret  portions  of  the  Hut 
were  divided  into  two  great  parts,  like  the  lower  floor,  with 
out  any  doors  of  communication.  Thus,  below,  the  apart 
ments  commenced  at  the  gate- way,  and  extended  along  one- 
half  the  front;  the  whole  of  the  east  wing,  and  the  whole 
of  the  rear,  occupying  five-eighths  of  the  entire  structure. 
This  part  contained  all  the  rooms  occupied  by  the  family 
and  the  offices.  The  corresponding  three-eighths,  or  the 
remaining  half  of  the  front,  and  the  whole  of  the  west  wing, 
were  given  to  visitors,  and  were  now  in  possession  of  the 
people  of  the  valley ;  as  were  all  the  rooms  and  garrets 
above  them.  On  the  other  hand,  captain  Willoughby,  with 
a  view  to  keep  his  family  to  itself,  had  excluded  every  one, 
*but  the  usual  inmates,  from  his  own  portion  of  the  house, 
garret-rooms  included. 

Some  of  the  garret-rooms,  particularly  those  over  tho 
library,  drawing-room,  and  parlour,  were  convenient  and 
well-furnished  little  apartments,  enjoying  dormer-windows 
that  opened  on  the  meadows  and  forest,  and  possessing  a 
very  tolerable  elevation,  for  rooms  of  that  particular  con 
struction.  Here  Mr.  Woods  lodged  and  had  his  study.  The 
access  was  by  a  convenient  flight  of  steps,  placed  in  the 
vestibule  that  communicated  with  the  court.  A  private  and 
narrower  flight  also  ascended  from  the  offices. 

Mafld  now  led  the  way  up  the  principal  stairs,  Mike  being 
on  post  at  the  outer  door  to  keep  off  impertinent  eyes,  follow 
ed  by  Robert  Willoughby.  Unlike  most  American  houses, 
the  Hut  had  few  passages  on  its  principal  floor ;  the  rooms 
communicating  en  suite,  as  a  better  arrangement  where  the 


236  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

buildings  were  so  long,  and  yet  so  narrow.  Above,  how 
ever,  one  side  was  left  in  open  garret ;  sometimes  in  front 
and  sometimes  in  the  rear,  as  the  light  came  from  the  court, 
or  from  without.  Into  this  garret,  then,  Maud  conducted 
the  major,  passing  a  line  of  humble  rooms  on  her  right, 
which  belonged  to  the  families  of  the  Plinys  and  the  Smashes, 
with  their  connections,  until  she  reached  the  front  range  of 
the  buildings.  Here  the  order  was  changed  along  the  half 
of  the  structure  reserved  to  the  use  of  the  family  ;  the  rooms 
being  on  the  outer  side  lighted  merely  by  the  loops,  while 
opposite  to  them  was  an  open  garret  with  windows  that 
overlooked  the  court. 

Passing  into  the  garret  just  mentioned,  Maud  soon  reached 
the  door  of  the  little  room  she  sought.  It  was  an  apartment 
she  had  selected  for  painting,  on  account  of  the  light  from 
the  loop,  which  in  the  morning  was  particularly  favourable, 
though  somewhat  low.  As  she  usually  sat  on  a  little  stool, 
however,  this  difficulty  was  in  some  measure  obviated  ;  and, 
at  all  events,  the  place  was  made  to  answer  her  purposes. 
She  kept  the  key  herself,  and  the  room,  since  Beulah's  mar 
riage  in  particular,  was  her  sanctum  ;  no  one  entering  it 
unless  conducted  by  its  mistress.  Occasionally,  Little  Smash 
was  admitted  with  a  broom ;  though  Maud,  for  reasons  known 
to  herself,  often  preferred  sweeping  the  small  carpet  that  co 
vered  the  centre  of  the  floor,  with  her  own  fair  hands,  in 
preference  to  suffering  another  to  intrude.  « 

The  major  was  aware  that  Maud  had  used  this  room  for 
the  last  seven  years.  It  was  here  he  had  seen  her  handker 
chief  waving  at  the  loop,  when  he  last  departed  ;  and  hun 
dreds  of  times  since  had  he  thought  of  this  act  of  watchful 
affection,  with  doubts  that  led  equally  to  pain  or  pleasure, 
as  images  of  merely  sisterly  care,  or  of  a  tenderer  feeling, 
obtruded  themselves.  These  loops  were  four  feet  long,  cut 
in  the  usual  bevelling  manner,  through  the  massive  timbers  ; 
were  glazed,  and  had  thick,  bullet-proof,  inside  shutters, 
that  in  this  room  were  divided  in  equal  parts,  in  order  to  give 
Maud  the  proper  use  of  the  light  she  wanted.  All  these  shut 
ters  were  now  closed  by  command  of  the  captain,  in  order  to 
conceal  thf  lights  that  would  be  flickering  through  the  dif 
ferent  garrets ;  and  so  far  had  caution  become  a  habit,  that 


TIIE     IIUTTED     KNOLL.  237 

Maud  seldom  exposed  her  person  at  night,  near  the  loop, 
with  the  shutter  open. 

On  the  present  occasion,  she  left  the  light  without,  and 
threw  open  the  upper-half  of  her  heavy  shutter,  remarking 
as  she  did  so,  that  the  day  was  just  beginning  to  dawn. 

"  In  a  few  minutes  it  w'ill  be  light,"  she  added  ;  "  then  we 
shall  be  able  to  see  who  is  and  who  is  not  in  the  valley. 
Look — you  can  perceive  my  father  near  the  gate,  at  this 
moment." 

"  I  do,  to  my  shame,  Maud.  He  should  not  be  there, 
while  I  am  cooped  up  here,  behind  timbers  that  are  almost 
shot-proof." 

"  It  will  be  time  for  you  to  go  to  the  front,  as  you  sol 
diers  call  it,  when  there  is  an  enemy  to  face.  You  cannot 
think  there  is  any  danger  of  an  attack  upon  the  Hut  this 
morning." 

"  Certainly  not.  It  is  now  too  late.  If  intended  at  all,  it 
would  have  been  made  before  that  streak  of  light  appeared 
in  the  east." 

"  Then  close  the  shutter,  and  I  will  bring  in  the  lamp, 
and  show  you  some  of  my  sketches.  We  artists  are  thirst- 
ing  always  for  praise ;  and  I  know  you  have  a  taste,  Bob, 
that  one-might  dread." 

'*  This  is  kind  of  you,  dear  Maud,"  answered  the  major, 
closing  the  shutter ;  "  for  they  tell  me  you  are  niggardly  of 
bestowing  such  favours.  I  hear  you  have  got  to  likenesses — 
little  Evert's,  in  particular." 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


WYANDOTTE; 

O*. 

THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


BY    J.    FENIMORE    COOPER 


"I  venerate  tho  Pilgrim's  cause, 
Yet  for  tho  red  man  dare  to  plead: 
We  bow  to  !  T(I.-,I  laws, 

He  turns  to  Nature  for  his  creed."— Sprayue 


IN      TWO      VOLUMES. 
VOL.  II. 


NEW    EDITION. 


NEW    YORK: 
TRINGER      AND      TOWNSEND, 

1852. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843,  by 

J.  rENEMORE  COOPER, 

in  the  clerk's  office  of  the  district  court  of  the  United  b'tates,  for  the 
Northern  District  of  New  Yoik. 


THE  HUTTED  KNOLL. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Anxious*,  she  hovers  o'er  the  web  the  while, 
Reads,  as  it  prows,  thy  figured  story  there; 
Now  she  explains  the  texture  with  a  smile, 
And  now  the  woof  interprets  with  a  tear. 

FAWCETT. 

ALL  Maud's  feelings  were  healthful  and  natural.  She  had 
no  exaggerated  sentiments,  and  scarcely  art  enough  to  con 
trol  or  to  conceal  any  of  the  ordinary  impulses  of  her  heart. 
~\Ve  are  not  about  to  relate  a  scene,  therefore,  in  which  a 
long-cherished  but  hidden  miniature  of  the  young  man  is  to 
play  a  conspicuous  part,  and  to  be  the  means  of  revealing 
to  two  lovers  the  state  of  their  respective  hearts ;  but  one  of 
a  very  different  character.  It  is  true,  Maud  had  endeavoured 
to  make,  from  memory,  one  or  two  sketches  of  "  Bob's" 
face ;  but  she  had  done  it  openly,  and  under  the  cogni 
zance  of  the  whole  family.  This  she  might  very  well  do, 
indeed,  in  her  usual  character  of  a  sister,  and  excite  no 
comments.  In  these  efforts,  her  father  and  mother,  and 
IVulah,  had  uniformly  pronounced  her  success  to  be  far 
beyond  their  hopes ;  but  Maud,  herself,  had  thrown  them 
all  aside,  half-finished,  dissatisfied  with  her  own  labours. 
Like  the  author,  whose  fertile  imagination  fancies  pictures 
that  defy  his  powers  of  description,  her  pencil  ever  fell  far 
short  of  the  face  that  her  memory  kept  so  constantly  in  \\<>\v. 
This  sketch  wanted  animation,  that  gentleness,  another  fire, 
and  a  fourth  candour ;  in  short,  had  Maud  begun  a  thousand, 
all  would  have  been  deficient,  in  her  eyes,  in  ^ome  gn  at 
.rial  of  perfection.  Still,  she  had  no  secret  about  her 
efforts,  and  half-a-dozen  of  these  very  sketches  lay  upper- 

(3) 


4  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

most  in  her  portfolio,  when  she  spread  it,  and  its  contents, 
before  the  eyes  of  the  original. 

Major  Willoughby  thought  Maud  had  never  appeared 
more  beautiful  than  as  she  moved  about  making  her  little 
preparations  for  the  exhibition.  Pleasure  heightened  her 
colour;  and  there  was  such  a  mixture  of  frank,  sisterly 
regard,  in  every  glance  of  her  eye,  blended,  however,  wilh 
sensitive  feeling,  and  conscious  womanly  reserve,  as  made 
her  a  thousand  times  —  measuring  amounts  by  the  young 
man's  sensations  —  more  interesting  than  he  had  ever  seen 
her.  The  lamp  gave  but  an  indifferent  light  for  a  gallery, 
but  it  was  sufficient  to  betray  Maud's  smiles,  and  blushes, 
and  each  varying  emotion  of  her  charming  countenance. 

"  Now,  Bob,"  she  said,  opening  her  portfolio,  with  all  her 
youthful  frankness  and  confidence,  "  you  know  well  enough 
I  am  not  one  of  those  old  masters  of  whom  you  used  to  talk 
so  much,  but  your  own  pupil — the  work  of  your  own  hands  ; 
and  if  you  find  more  faults  than  you  have  expected,  you 
will  have  the  goodness  to  remember  that  the  master  has 
deserted  his  peaceful  pursuits  to  go  a  campaigning — there — • 
that  is  a  caricature  of  your  own  countenance,  staring  you 
in  the  face,  as  a  preface !" 

"  This  is  like,  I  should  think — was  it  done  from  memory, 
dear  Maud?" 

"  How  else  should  it  be  done  ?  All  our  entreaties  have 
never  been  able  to  persuade  you  to  send  us  even  a  miniature. 
You  are  wrong  in  this,  Bob"  —  by  no  accident  did  Maud 
now  ever  call  the  major,  Robert,  though  Beulah  often  did. 
There  was  a  desperate  sort  of  familiarity  in  the  Bob,  that 
she  could  easily  adopt;  but  the  '  Robert'  had  a  family  sound 
that  she  disliked ;  and  yet  a  more  truly  feminine  creature 
than  Maud  Meredith  did  not  exist — "  You  are  wrong,  Bob  ; 
for  mother  actually  pines  to  possess  your  picture,  in  some 
shape  or  other.  It  was  this  wish  that  induced  me  to  attempt 
these  things." 

"  And  why  has  no  one  of  them  ever  been  finished  ? — Here 
are  six  or  eight  beginnings,  and  all,  more  or  less,  like,  I 
should  think,  and  not  one  of  them  more  than  half  done. 
Why  have  I  been  treated  so  cavalierly,  Miss  Maud  ?" 

The  fair  artist's  colour  deepened  a  little ;  but  her  smile 
was  quite  as  sweet  as  it  was  saucy,  as  she  replied — 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Girlish  caprice,  I  suppose.  I  like  neither  of  them  ;  and 
of  that  which  a  woman  dislikes,  she  will  have  none.  To  be 
candid,  however,  I  hardly  think  there  is  one  of  them  all  that 
does  you  justice." 

»  NO  7 — what  fault  have  you  to  find  with  this  1  This  might 
be  worked  up  to  something  very  natural." 

"  It  would  be  a  natural,  then  —  it  wants  expression,  fear- 
fully." 

"  And  this,  which  is  still  better.  That  might  be  finished 
while  I  am  here,  and  I  will  give  you  some  sittings." 

"Even  mother  dislikes  that  —  there  is  too  much  of  the 
Major  of  Foot  in  it.  Mr.  Woods  says  it  is  a  martial  pic 
ture." 

"  And  ought  not  a  soldier  to  look  like  a  soldier?  To  me, 
now,  that  stvms  a  capital  beginning." 

"  It  is  not  what  mother,  or  Beulah  —  or  father — or  even 
any  of  us  wants.  It  is  too  full  of  Bunker's  Hill.  Your 
friends  desire  to  see  you  as  you  appear  to  them;  not  as  you 
appear  to  your  enemies." 

"  Upon  'my  word,  Maud,  you  have  made  great  advances 
in  the  art!  This  is  a  view  of  the  Knoll,  and  the  dam — and 
here  is  another  of  the  mill,  and  the  water-fall  —  all  beauti 
fully  done,  and  in  water-colours,  too.  What  is  this?  — 
you  been  attempting  a  sketch  of  yourself!  —  The 
glass  must  have  been  closely  consulted,  my  fair  coquette,  to 
enable  you  to  do  this  !" 

The  blood  had  rushed  into  Maud's  face,  covering  it  with 
a  rich  tell-tale  mantle,  when  her  companion  first  alluded  to 
the  half-finished  miniature  he  held  in  his  hand  ;  then  her 
failures  resembled  ivory,  as  the  revulsion  of  feeling,  that 
overcame  her  confusion,  followed.  For  some  little  time  she 
sate,  in  breathless  stillness,  with  her  looks  cast  upon  the  floor, 
conscious  that  Robert  Willou«hby  was  glancing  from  her 
own  face  to  the  miniature,  and  from  the  miniature  to  her 
face  again,  making  his  observations  and  comparisons.  Then 
she  ventured  to  raise  her  eyes  timidly  towaids  his,  half- 
imploringly,  as  if  to  beseech  him  to  pru«vrd  to  something 
else.  But  the  young  man  was  too  much  engrossed  with  the 
exceedingly  pretty  sketch  he  held  in  his  hand,  lo  understand 
her  meaning,  or  to  comply  with  her  wishes. 
1* 


6  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  This  is  yourself,  Maud !"  he  cried — "  though  in  a  strange 
sort  of  dress — why  have  you  spoilt  so  beautiful  a  thing,  by 
putting  it  in  this  masquerade]" 

"  It  is  not  myself — it  is  a  copy  of — a  miniature  I  pos 
sess." 

"  A  miniature  you  possess  !  —  Of  whom  can  you  possess 
so  lovely  a  miniature,  and  I  never  see  it  ?" 

A  faint  smile  illumined  the  countenance  of  Maud,  and  the 
blood  began  to  return  to  her  cheeks.  She  stretched  her  hand 
over  to  the  sketch,  and  gazed  on  it,  with  intense  feeling, 
until  the  tears  began  to  stream  from  her  eyes. 

"  Maud — dear,  dearest  Maud  —  have  I  said  that  which 
pains  you  1 — I  do  not  understand  all  this,  but  I  confess  there 
are  secrets  to  which  I  can  have  no  claim  to  be  admitted — " 

"  Nay,  Bob,  this  is  making  too  much  of  what,  after  all, 
must  sooner  or  later  be  spoken  of  openly  among  us.  I  be 
lieve  that  to  be  a  copy  of  a  miniature  of  my  mother." 

"Of  mother,  Maud  —  you  are  beside  yourself — it  has 
neither  her  features,  expression,  nor  the  colour  of  her  eyes. 
It  is  the  picture  of  a  far  handsomer  woman,  though  mother 
is  still  pretty ;  and  it  is  perfection  !" 

"  I  mean  of  my  mother — of  Maud  Yeardley ;  the  wife  of 
my  father,  Major  Meredith." 

This  was  said  with  a  steadiness  that  surprised  our  heroine 
herself,  when  she  came  to  think  over  all  that  had  passed, 
and  it  brought  the  blood  to  her  companion's  heart,  in  a 
torrent. 

"  This  is  strange  !"  exclaimed  Willoughby,  after  a  short 
pause.  "  And  my  mother — our  mother  has  given  you  the 
original,  and  told  you  this?  I  did  not  believe  she  could 
muster  the  resolution  necessary  to  such  an  act." 

"  She  has  not.  You  know,  Bob,  I  am  now  of  age ;  and 
my  father,  a  month  since,  put  some  papers  in  my  hand, 
with  a  request  that  I  would  read  them.  They  contain  a 
marriage  settlement  and  other  things  of  that  sort,  which 
show  I  am  mistress  of  more  money  than  I  should  know  what 
to  do  with,  if  it  were  not  for  dear  little  Evert — but,  with  such 
a  precious  being  to  love,  one  never  can  have  too  much  of 
anything.  With  the  papers  were  many  trinkets,  which  I 
suppose  father  never  looked  at.  This  beautiful  miniature 
was  among  the  last ;  and  I  feel  certain,  from  some  remarks 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  7 

I  ventured  to  make,  mother  does  not   know  of  its  exist 
ence." 

As  Maud  spoke,  she  drew  the  original  from  her  bosom, 
and  placed  it  in  Robert  Willoughby's  hands.  When  this 
simple  act  was  performed,  her  mind  seemed  relieved ;.  and 
she  wailed,  with  strong  natural  interest,  to  hear  Robert 
Willoughby's  comments. 

"This,  then,  Maud,  was  your  own — your  real  mother!" 
the  young  man  said,  after  studying  the  miniature,  with  a 
thoughtful  countenance,  for  near  a  minute.  "  It  is  like  her — 
like  you." 

"  Like  her,  Bob? — How  can  you  know  anything  of  that? 
— I  suppose  it  to  be  my  mother,  because  I  think  it  like  my 
self,  and  because  it  is  not  easy  to  say  who  else  it  can  be. 
But  you  cannot  know  anything  of  this?" 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Maud  —  I  remember  both  your  pa 
rents  well — it  could  not  be  otherwise,  as  they  were  the 
bosom  friends  of  my  own.  You  will  remember  that  I  am 
now  eight-and-twenty,  and  that  I  had  seen  seven  of  these 
years  when  you  were  born.  Was  my  first  effort  in  arms 
never  spoken  of  in  your  presence?" 

"  Never — perhaps  it  was  not  a  subject  for  me  to  hear,  if 
it  were  in  any  manner  connected  with  my  parents." 

"  You  are  right — that  must  be  the  reason  it  has  been  kept 
from  your  ears." 

"Surely,  surely,  I  am  old  enough  to  hear  it  now  —  you 
will  conceal  nothing  from  me,  Bob  ?" 

"  If  I  would,  I  could  not,  now.  It  is  too  late,  Maud.  You 
know  the  manner  in  which  Major  Meredith  died  ? — " 

"  He  fell  in  battle,  I  have  suspected,"  answered  the  daugh 
ter,  in  a  suppressed,  doubtful  tone  —  "  for  no  one  has  ever 
directly  told  me  even  that." 

"  lie  did,  and  I  was  at  his  side.  The  French  and  ?,-. 
made  an  assault  on  us,  about  an  hour  earlier  than  th; 
our  two  fathers  rushed  to  the  pickets  to  repel  it  —  I 
reckless  boy,  anxious  even  at  that  tender  age  to  sre  a  fray, 
and  was  at  their  side.    Your  father  was  one  of  the  fir 
fell ;  but  Joyce  and  our  father  beat  the  Indians  back  from 
his  body,  and  saved  it  from  mutilation.     Your  mother  was 
buried  i'n  the  same  grave,  and  then  you  came  to  us,  where 
our  have  been  ever  since." 


1 

8  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

•J       I 

Maud's  tears  flowed  fast,  and  yet  it  was  not  so  much  in 
grief  as  in  a  gush  of  tenderness  she  could  hardly  explain  to 
herself.  Robert  Willoughby  understood  her  emotions,  and 
perceived  that  he  might  proceed. 

"  I  was  old  enough  to  remember  both  your  parents  well — 
I  was  a  favourite,  I  believe,  with,  certainly  was  much  petted 
by,  both — I  remember  your  birth,  Maud,  and  was  suffered 
to  carry  you  in  my  arms,  ere  you  were  a  week  old." 

"  Then  you  have  known  me  for  an  impostor  from  the  be 
ginning,  Bob — must  have  often  thought  of  me  as  such  !" 

"  I  have  known  you  for  the  daughter  of  Lewellen  Mere 
dith,  certainly ;  and  not  for  a  world  would  I  have  you  the 
real  child  of  Hugh  Willoughby " 

"Bob!"  exclaimed  Maud,  her  heart  beating  violently,  a 
rush  of  feeling  nearly  overcoming  her,  in  which  alarm,  con 
sciousness,  her  own  secret,  dread  of  something  wrong,  and 
a  confused  glimpse  of  the  truth,  were  all  so  blended,  as 
nearly  to  deprive  her,  for  the  moment,  of  the  use  of  her 
senses. 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  precisely  what  would  have  followed 
this  tolerably  explicit  insight  into  the  state  of  the  young 
man's  feelings,  had  not  an  outcry  on  the  lawn  given  the 
major  notice  that  his  presence  was  needed  below.  With  a 
few  words  of  encouragement  to  Maud,  first  taking  the  pre 
caution  to  extinguish  the  lamp,  -  lest  its  light  should  expose 
her  to  a  shot  in  passing  some  of  the  open  loops,  he  sprang 
towards  the  stairs,  and  was  at  his  post  again,  literally  within 
a  minute.  Nor  was  he  a  moment  too  soon.  The  alarm 
was  general,  and  it  was  understood  an  assault  was  moment 
arily  expected. 

The  situation  of  Robert  Willoughby  was  now  tantalizing 
in  the  extreme.  Ignorant  of  what  was  going  on  in  front, 
he  saw  no  enemy  in  the  rear  to  oppose,  and  was  condemned 
to  inaction,  at  a  moment  when  he  felt  that,  by  training, 
years,  affinity  to  the  master  of  the  place,  and  all  the  usual 
considerations,  he  ought  to  be  in  front,  opposed  to  the  enemy. 
It  is  probable  he  would  have  forgotten  his  many  cautions  to 
keep  close,  had  not  Maud  appeared  in  the  library,  and  im 
plored  him  to  remain  concealed,  at  least  until  there  was  the 
certainty  his  presence  was  necessary  elsewhere. 

At  that  instant,  every  feeling  but  those  connected  with  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  9 

danger,  was  in  I  I  forgotten.     Still,  Willoughby  had 

it  consideration  for  Maud  to  insist  on  her  joining  her 
moihiT  and  Benlah,  in  the  portion  of  the  building  whore  the 
absence  of  external  windows  rendered  their  security  com 
plete,  so  lonur  as  the  foe  could  be  kept  without  the  palisades. 
In  this  he  succeeded,  but  not  until  he  had  promised,  again 
and  aufain,  to  be  cautious  in  not  exposing  himself  at  any  of 
the  windows,  the  day  having  now  fairly  dawned,  and  parti 
cularly  not  to  let  it  be  known  in  the  Hut  that  he  was  present 
until  it  became  indispensable. 

The  major  felt  relieved  when  Maud  had  left  him.  For 
her,  he  had  no  longer  any  immediate  apprehensions,  and  ho 
turned  all  his  faculties  to  the  sounds  of  the  assault  which 
he  supposed  to  be  going  on  in  front.  To  his  surprise,  how 
ever,  no  discharges  of  fire-arms  succeeded ;  and  even  the. 
cries,  and  orders,  and  calling  from  point  to  point,  that  are  a 
little  apt  to  succeed  an  alarm  in  an  irregular  garrison,  had 
entirely  ceased ;  and  it  became  doubtful  whether  the  whole 
commotion  did  not  proceed  from  a  false  alarm*  The  Smashes, 
in  particular,  whose  vociferations  for  the  first  few  minutes 
had  been  of  a  very  decided  kind,  were  now  mute ;  and  the 
•nations  of  the  women  and  children  had  ceased. 

Major  VVilloughby  was  too  good  a  soldier  to  abandon  his 
v.  ithout  orders,  though  bitterly  did  he  regret  the  facility 
with  which  he  had  consented  to  accept  so  inconsiderable  a 
command.  He  so  far  disregarded  his  instructions,  however, 
as  to  place  his  whole  person  before  a  window,  in  order  to 
reconnoitre ;  for  it  was  now  broad  day-light,  though  the  sun 
had  not  yet  risen.  Nothing  rewarded  this  careless  exposure; 
and  then  it  Hashed  upon  his  mind  that,  as  the  commander 
of  a  separate  detachment,  ho  had  a  perfect  right  to  employ 
any  of  his  immediate  subordinates,  cither  a-  nvs<' -in. 
scouts.  His  choice  of  an  agent  was  somewhat  limited,  it  is 
true,  lying  between  Mike  and  the  Plinys;  after  a  moment 
of  reflection,  he  determined  to  choose  the  former. 

Mike  was  duly  relieved  from  his  station  at  the  door,  the 
younger  Pliny  l»emg  substituted  for  him,  and  he  was  led 
into  the  library.  II«-re  he  received  hasty  but  clear  orders 
fr-un  the  major  how  he  was  to  proceed,  and  was  thrust, 
rather  than  conducted  from  the  room,  in  his  superior's  haste 
to  hear  the  tidings.  Three  or  four  minutes  might  have 


10  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

elapsed,  when  an  irregular  volley  of  musketry  was  heard  in 
front ;  then  succeeded  an  answering  discharge,  which  sound- 
ed  smothered  and  distant.  A  single  musket  came  from  the 
garrison  a  minute  later,  and  then  Mike  rushed  into  the  library, 
his  eyes  dilated  with  a  sort  of  wild  delight,  dragging  rather 
than  carrying  his  piece  after  him. 

"  The  news  !"  exclaimed  the  major,  as  soon  as  he  got  a 
glimpse  of  his  messenger.  "  What  mean  these  volleys, 
and  how  comes  on  my  father  in  front  ?" 

"Is  it  what  do  they  mane?"  answered  Mike.  "Well, 
there 's  but  one  maning  to  powther  and  ball,  and  that 's  far 
more  sarious  than  shillelah  wor-r-k.  If  the  rapscallions 
didn't  fire  a  whole  plathoon,  as  serjeant  Joyce  calls  it,  right 
at  the  Knoll,  my  name  is  not  Michael  O'Hearn,  or  my  na 
ture  one  that  dales  in  giving  back  as  good  as  I  get." 

"  But  the  volley  came  first  from  the  house — why  did  my 
father  order  his  people  to  make  the  first  discharge  ?" 

"  For  the  same  r'ason  that  he  didn't.  Och  !  there  was  a 
big  frown  on  his  f'atures,  when  he  heard  the  rifles  and 
muskets  ;  and  Mr.  Woods  never  pr'ached  more  to  the  pur 
pose  than  the  serjeant  himself,  ag'in  that  same.  But  to  think 
of  them  rapscallions  answering  a  fire  that  was  ag'in  orders  ! 
Not  a  word  did  his  honour  say  about  shooting  any  of  them, 
and  they  just  pulled  their  triggers  on  the  house  all  the  same 
as  if  it  had  been  logs  growing  in  senseless  and  uninhabited 
trees,  instead  of  a  rational  and  well  p'apled  abode.  Och ! 
ar'n't  they  vagabonds !" 

"  If  you  do  not  wish  to  drive  me  mad,  man,  tell  me  clearly 
what  has  past,  that  I  may  understand  you." 

"Is  it  understand  that's  wanting? — Lord,  yer  honour, 
if  ye  can  understand  that  Misther  Strhides,  that 's  yon,  ye  '11 
be  a  wise  man.  He  calls  hisself  a  '  son  of  the  poor'atin's,' 
and  poor  'ating  it  must  have  been,  in  the  counthry  of  hig 
faders,  to  have  produced  so  lane  and  skinny  a  baste  as  that 
same.  The  orders  was  as  partic'lar  as  tongue  of  man  could 
utter,  and  what  good  will  it  all  do? — Ye 're  not  to  fire,  says 
serjeant  Joyce,  till  ye  all  hear  the  wor-r-d ;  and  the  divil  of 
a  wor-r-d  did  they  wait  for;  but  blaze  away  did  they,  list 
becaase  a  knot  of  savages  comes  on  to  them  rocks  ag'in, 
where  they  had  possession  all  yesterday  afthernoon ;  and 
sure  it  is  common  enough  to  breakfast  where  a  man  sups.'* 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  11 

"  You  mean  to  say  that  tho  Indians  have  reappeared  on 
the  rucks,  and  tha;  Ics's  men  them, 

without  orders  ? — i 

"It's  ji.st  that,  inujjor;  and  little  good,  or  little  har-r-m, 
did  it  do.  Joel,  and  his  pnor'utin's,  blazed  away  at  'cm,  as 
il'  they  had  been  so  many  Christians — and  'twould  have  done 
yer  heart  good  to  have  heard  the  scrjcant  belabour 
with  h«rd  \vor-r-ds,  lor  their  throuble.  'There's  none  of  tho 
poor'atin'  family  in  the  scrjcant,  who 's  a  mighty  man  wid 
his  tongue !" 

"  And  the  savages  returned  the  volley  —  which  explains 
the  distant  discharge  I  heard." 

"  Anyb«  .jjor,  that  ye 're  yer  father's  son, 

and  a  squtdier  bor-r-n.  Och  !  who  would  of  t'ought  of  that, 
but  one  bred  and  bor-r-n  in  the  army?  Yes;  the  savages 
sent  back  as  good  as  they  got,  which  was  jist  not'in'  at  all, 
scein'  that  no  one  is  har-r-m'd." 

"And  the  single  piece  that  followed — there  was  one  dis 
charge,  by  itself  f 

Mike  opened  his  mouth  with  a  grin  that  might  have  put 

either  of  the  Plinys  to  shame,  it  being  rather" a  favourite 

theory  with  the  descendants  of  the  puritans — or  "  poor'a- 

as  the  county  Leitrim-man  called  Joc-l  and  his  set — 

that  the  Irishman  was  more  than  a  match  for  any  son  of 

Ham  at  the  Knoll,  in  the  way  of  capacity  about  this  portion 

of  the  human  countenance.  "The  major  saw  that  there  was 

a  good  deal  of  self-felicitation  in  the  expression  of  Mike's 

,  and  he  demanded  an  explanation  in  more  direct 

terms. 

"  Twas  I  did  it,  majjor,  and  'twas  as  well  fired  a  piece 
as  ye've  ever  hear-r-d  in  the  king's  sarvioe.     Divil  bur-r-n 
me,  if  I  lets  Joel  get  any  such  advantage,  over  me,  as  to 
a  whole  battle  to  himself.     No  —  no  —  as  soon  as  I 
smelt  his  Yankee  powther,  and  could  get  my  own  r.. 
cock'd,  and  pointed  out  of  the  forlhifications,  I  If 
it,  as  if  it  had  been  so  much  breakfast  ready  cooked  to  their 
hands.     *T\vns  well  pointed,  too;  for  I'm  not  the  man  to 
shoot  into  a  fri'nd's  countenance." 

"  And  you  broke  the  orders  for  a  reason  no  better  than 
the  fact  that  Strides  had  broken  them  before?" 


12  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Divil  a  bit,  majjor — Joel  had  bj'oken  the  orders,  ye  seev 
and  that  settled  the  matter.  The  thing  that  is  once  broken 
is  broken,  and  wor-r-ds  can't  mend  it,  any  more  than  for- 
bearin'  to  fire  a  gun  will  mend  it." 

By  dint  of  cross-questioning,  Robert  Willoughby  finally 
succeeded  in  getting  something  like  an  outline  of  the  truth 
from  Mike.  The  simple  facts  were,  that  the  Indians  had 
taken  possession  of  their  old  bivouac,  as  soon  as  the  day 
dawned,  and  had  commenced  their  preparations  for  break 
fast,  when  Joel,  the  miller,  and  a  few  of  that  set,  in  a  pa 
roxysm  of  valour,  had  discharged  a  harmless  volley  at 
them  ;  the  distance  rendering  the  attempt  futile.  This  fire 
had  been  partially  returned,  the  whole  concluding  with  the 
finale  from  the  Irishman's  gun,  as  has  been  related.  As  it 
was  now  too  light  to  apprehend  a  surprise,  and  the  ground 
in  front  of  the  palisade  had  no  very  dangerous  covers,  Ro 
bert  Willoughby  was  emboldened  to  send  one  of  the  Plinys 
to  request  an  interview  with  his  father.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  latter  appeared,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Woods. 

"  The  same  party  has  reappeared,  and  seems  disposed  to 
occupy  its  old  position  near  the  mill,"  said  the  captain,  in 
answer  to  his  son's  inquiries.  "  It  is  difficult  to  say  what 
the  fellows  have  in  view ;  and  there  are  moments  when  I 
think  there  are  more  or  less  whites  among  them.  I  suggested 
as  much  to  Strides,  chaplain  ;  and  I  thought  the  fellow  ap 
peared  to  receive  the  notion  as  if  he  thought  it  might  be 
true." 

"  Joel  is  a  little  of  an  enigma  to  me,  captain  Willoughby," 
returned  the  chaplain ;  "  sometimes  seizing  an  idea  like  a 
cat  pouncing  upon  a  rat,  and  then  coquetting  with  it,  as  the 
same  cat  will  play  with  a  mouse,  when  it  has  no  appetite 
for  food." 

"  Och  !  he  's  a  .precious  poor'atin' !"  growled  Mike,  from 
his  corner  of  the  room. 

"If  whites  are  among  the  savages,  why  should  they  not 
make  themselves  known  ?"  demanded  Robert  \Villoughby. 
"  Your  character,  sir,  is  no  secret ;  and  they  must  be  ac 
quainted  with  their  own  errand  here." 

"  I  will  send  for  Strides,  and  get  his  opinion  a  little  more 
freely,"  answered  the  captain,  after  a  moment  of  delibera 
tion.  "  You  will  withdraw,  Bob ;  though,  by  leaving  your 


THE     II  U  T  T  T.  D   K  N  O  L  L  .  13 

door  n  little  ajar,  the  conversation  will  reach  you  ;  and  pre 
vent  the  n.-rrssity  of  a  repetition." 

As  Robert  Willoughby  was  not  unwilling  to  hear  what 
the  overseer  mi^ht  have  to  say  in  the  present  state  of  things, 
he  did  not  hesitate  about  complying,  withdrawing  into  his 
own  room  as  requested,  and  leaving  the  door  ajar,  in  a  way 
to  prevent  suspicion  of  his  presence,  as  far  as  possible.  But, 
Joel  Strides,  like  all  bad  men,  ever  suspected  the  worst.  The 
innocent  and  pure  of  mind  alone  are  without  distrust;  while 
one  constituted  morally,  like  the  overseer,  never  permitted  his 
thoughts  to  remain  in  the  tranquillity  that  is  a  fruit  of  confi- 
.  Conscious  of  his  own  evil  intentions,  his  very  nature 
put  on  armour  against  the  same  species  of  machinations  in 
others,  as  the  hedge-hog  rolls  himself  into  a  ball,  and  thrusts 
out  his  quills,  at  the  sight  of  the  dog.  Had  not  captain 
Willouiihby  been  one  of  those  who  arc  slow  to  see  evil,  he 
might  have  detected  something  wrong  in  Joel's  feelings,  by 
the  very  first  glance  he  cast  about  him,  on  entering  the 
library. 

In  point  of  fact,  Strides'  thoughts  had  not  been  idle  since 
the  rencontre  of  the  previous  night.  Inquisitive,  and  under 
none  of  the  usual  restraints  of  delicacy,  he  had  already 
probed  all  he  dared  approach  on  the  subject;  and,  by  this 
time,  had  become  perfectly  assured  that  there  was  some 
mystery  about  the  unknown  individual  whom  he  had  met  in 
his  master's  company.  To  own  the  truth,  Joel  did  not  sus 
pect  that  major  Willoughby  had  again  ventured  so  far  into 
the  lion's  den ;  but  he  fancied  that  some  secret  agent  of  the 
i  was  at  the  Hut,  and  that  the  circumstance  offered  a 
fair  opening  for  helping  the  captain  down  the  ladder  of 
public  favour,  and  to  push  himself  up  a  few  of  its  rounds. 
He  was  not  sorry,  therefore,  to  be  summoned  to  this  confer* 
enrf,  hoping  it  might  lead  to  some  opening  for  farther  dis 
cover 

"Sit  down,  Strides" — said  captain  Willoughby,  motion 
ing  towards  a  chair  so  distant  from  the  open  door  of  tlr: 
Ix-d-roorn,  and  so  placed  as  to  remove  th<«  dinner  of  too 
a  proximity — "  Sit  down — I  wish  to  consult  you  about 
the  state  of  things  towards  the  mills.  To  m"  it  seems  as 
if  there  were  more  pale-faces  than  red-skins  among  our 
vipiters." 

VOL.  II.  — 2 


14  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  That 's  not  onlikely,  captain— the  people  has  got  to  bo 
greatly  given  to  paintin'  and  imitatin',  sin'  the  hatchet  has 
been  dug  up  ag'in  the  British.  The  tea-boys  were  all  in 
Indian  fashion." 

"  True ;  but,  why  should  white  men  assume  such  a  dis 
guise  to  come  to  the  Knoll  1  I  am  not  conscious  of  having 
an  enemy  on  earth  who  could  meditate  harm  to  me  or 
mine." 

Alas !  poor  captain.  That  a  man  at  sixty  should  yet 
have  to  learn  that  the  honest,  and  fair-dealing,  and  plain- 
dealing,  and  affluent — for  captain  Willoughby  was  affluent 
in  the  eyes  of  those  around  him  —  that  such  a  man  should 
imagine  he  was  without  enemies,  was  to  infer  that  the  Spirit 
of  Darkness  had  ceased  to  exercise  his  functions  among 
men.  Joel  knew  better,  though  he  did  not  perceive  any 
necessity,  just  then,  for  letting  the  fact  reach  the  ears  of  the 
party  principally  concerned. 

"  A  body  might  s'pose  the  captain  was  pop'lar,  if  any 
man  is  pop'lar,"  answered  the  overseer ;  "  nor  do  I  know 
that  visiters  in  paint  betoken  onpopularity  to  a  person  in 
these  times  more  than  another.  May  I  ask  why  the  captain 
consails  these  Injins  a'nt  Injins?  To  me,  they  have  a  des 
perate  savage  look,  though  I  a'n't  much  accustomed  to  red 
skin  usages." 

"  Their  movements  are  too  open,  and  yet  too  uncertain, 
for  warriors  of  the  tribes.  I  think  a  savage,  by  this  time, 
would  have  made  up  his  mind  to  act  as  friend  or  foe." 

Joel  seemed  struck  with  the  idea ;  and  the  expression  of 
his  countenance,  which  on  entering  had  been  wily,  distrust 
ful  and  prying,  suddenly  changed  to  that  of  deep  reflection. 

"  Has  the  captain  seen  anything  else,  particular,  to  con. 
firm  this  idee  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Their  encampment,  careless  manner  of  moving,  and 
unguarded  exposure  of  their  persons,  are  all  against  their 
being  Indians." 

"  The  messenger  they  sent  across  the  meadow,  yester 
day,  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  Mohawk  ?" 

*'  He  was.  Of  Ids  being  a  real  red-skin  there  can  be  no 
question.  But  he  could  neither  speak  nor  understand  Eng 
lish.  The  little  that  passed  between  us  was  in  Low  Dutch. 
Our  dialogue  was  short ;  for,  apprehensive  of  treachery,  I 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  15 

brought  it  to  a  close  sooner  than  I  might  otherwise  have 

"Yes;  trrachery  is  a  cruel  thing,"  observed  the  con- 
scit utious  Joel ;  "  a  man  can't  be  too  strongly  on  his  guard 
iiir'in  it.  Docs  the  captain  ra'ally  calcilate  on  defending  the 
house,  should  a  serious  attempt  be  brought  forward  ibr  the 
day  .'" 

"  Do  I !  That  is  an  extraordinary  question,  Mr.  Strides. 
Why  have  I  built  in  this  mode,  if  I  have  no  such  intention? 
— why  palisaded  ? — why  armed  and  garrisoned,  if  not  in 
earnest  .'" 

"  I  s'posed  all  this  might  have  been  done  to  prevent  a 
surprise,  but  not  in  any  hope  of  standin'  a  siege.  I  should 
be  sorry  to  see  all  our  women  and  children  shut  up  under 
one  roof,  if  the  inimy  came  ag'in  us,  in  airnest,  with  fire  and 
sword." 

"  And  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  them  anywhere  else.  But, 
this  is  losing  time.  My  object  in  sending  for  you,  Joel,  was 
to  learn  your  opinion  about  the  true  character  of  our  visitors. 
Have  you  any  opinion,  or  information  to  give  me,  on  that 
point?" 

Joel  placed  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  and  his  chin  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  and  pondered  on  what  had  been  suggested, 
with  seeming  good-will,  and  great  earnestness. 

"  If  anv  one  could  be  found  venturesome  enough  to  go 
out  with  a  flag,"  he  at  length  remarked,  "  the  whole  truth 
might  be  come  at,  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  And  who  shall  I  employ  ?  Cheerfully  would  I  go  my- 
self,  were  such  a  step  military,  or  at  all  excusable  in  one  in 
my  situation." 

"  If  the  likes  of  myself  will  sarve  yer  honour's  turn,"  put 
in  Mike,  promptly,  and  yet  with  sufficient  diffidence  as  re- 
garded  his  views  of  his  own  qualifications  —  "there'll  bo 
nobody  to  gainsay  that  same ;  and  it  isn't  wilcome  that  I 
nade  tell  you,  ye*'ll  be  to  use  me  as  ye  would  yer  own  pro 
perty." 

"  I  hardly  think  Mike  would  answer,"  observed  Joel,  not 
altogether  without  a  sneer.  "  He  scurce  knows  an  Indian 
from  a  white  man ;  when  it  comes  to  the  paint,  it  would 
throw  him  into  dreadful  confusion." 

"  If  ye  thinks  that  I  am  to  be  made  to  believe  in  any  more 


16  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

Ould  Nicks,  Misther  Strhides,  then  ye  're  making  a  mistake 
in  my  nature.  Let  but  the  captain  say  the  word,  and  I  '11 
go  to  the  mill  and  bring  in  a  grist  of  them  same,  or  1'ave 
my  own  body  for  toll." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  you  in  the  least,  Mike,"  captain  Wil- 
loughby  mildly  observed ;  "  but  there  will  be  no  occasion, 
just  now,  of  your  running  any  such  risks.  I  shall  be  able 
to  find  other  truce-bearers." 

"  It  seems  the  captain  has  his  man  in  view,"  Joel  said, 
keenly  eyeing  his  master.  "  Perhaps  't  is  the  same  I  saw 
out  with  him  last  night.  That's  a  reliable  person,  I  do 
s'pose." 

"  You  have  hit  the  nail  on  the  head.  It  was  the  man  who 
was  out  last  night,  at  the  same  time  I  was  out  myself,  and 
his  name  is  Joel  Strides." 

"  The  captain's  a  little  musical,  this  morning — waal — if 
go  I  must,  as  there  was  two  on  us  out,  let  us  go  to  these 
savages  together.  I  saw  enough  of  that  man,  to  know  he 
is  reliable;  and  if  he'll  go,  I'll  go." 

"  Agreed"  —  said  Robert  Willoughby,  stepping  into  the 
library — "  I  take  you  at  your  word,  Mr.  Strides  ;  you  and  I 
will  run  what  risks  there  may  be,  in  order  to  relieve  this 
family  from  its  present  alarming  state." 

The  captain  was  astounded,  though  he  knew  not  whether 
to  be  displeased  or  to  rejoice.  As  for  Mike,  his  countenance 
expressed  great  dissatisfaction ;  for  he  ever  fancied  things 
were  going  wrong  so  long  as  Joel  obtained  his  wishes. 
Strides,  himself,  threw  a  keen  glance  at  the  stranger,  recog 
nised  him  at  a  glance,  and  had  sufficient  self-command  to 
conceal  his  discovery,  though  taken  completely  by  surprise. 
The  presence  of  the  major,  however,  immediately  removed 
all  his  objections  to  the  proposed  expedition;  since,  should 
the  party  prove  friendly  to  the  Americans,  he  would  be  safe 
on  his  own  account ;  or,  should  it  prove  the  reverse,  a  king's 
officer  could  not  fail  to  be  a  sufficient  protection. 

"  The  gentleman 's  a  total  stranger  to  me,"  Joel  hypocri 
tically  resumed  ;  "  but  as  the  captain  has  belief  in  him,  I 
must  have  the  same.  I  am  ready  to  do  the  ar'n'd,  therefore, 
as  soon  as  it  is  agreeable." 

"  This  is  well,  captain  Willoughby,"  put  in  the  major,  in 
order  to  anticipate  any  objections  from  his  father ;  "  and  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


17 


sooner  a  thing  of  this  sort  is  done,  the  better  will  it  be  for 
all  concerned.  I  am  ready  to  proceed  this  instant;  and  I 
take  it  this  worthy  man — 1  think  you  called  him  Strides- 
is  quite  as  willing/' 

Joel  signified  his  assent;  and  the  captain,  perceiving  no 
means  of  rctivaf,  was  lain  to  yield.  lie  took  the  major 
into  the  bed-room,  however,  and  held  a  minute's  private 
discourse,  when  he  returned,  and  bade  the  two  go  forth  to 
gether. 

"  Your  companion  has  his  instructions,  Joel,"  the  captain 
observed,  as  they  left  the  library  together ;  "  and  you  will 
follow  his  advice.  Show  the  white  flag  as  soon  as  you  quit 
the  gate;  if  they  are  true  warriors,  it  must  be  respected." 

Robert  Willoughby  was  too  intent  on  business,  and  too 
fearful  of  the  reappearance  and  reproachful  looks  of  Maud, 
to  delay.  He  had  passed  the  court,  and  was  at  the  outer 
gate,  before  any  of  the  garrison  even  noted  his  appearance 
among  them.  Here,  indeed,  the  father's  heart  felt  a  pang ; 
and,  but  for  his  military  pride,  the  captain  would  gladly 
have  recalled  his  consent.  It  was  too  late,  however;  and, 
squeezing  his  hand,  he  suffered  his  son  to  pass  outward. 
Joel  followed  steadily,  as  to  appearances,  though  not  without 
misgivings  as  to  what  might  be  the  consequences  to  himself 
and  his  growing  famHy. 


18  THE     HUTTED    KNOLL 


CHAPTER  II. 

**  I  worship  not  the  sun  at  noon, 
The  wandering  stars,  the  changing  moon, 
The  wind,  the  flood,  the  flame; 
I  will  not  bow  the  votive  knee 
To  wisdom,  virtue,  liberty; 
There  is  no  god,  but  God  for  me, 
Jehovah  is  his  name." 

MONTGOMERY. 

So  sudden  and  unexpected  had  been  the  passage  of  Robert 
Willoughby  through  the  court,  and  among  the  men  on  post 
without  the  inner  gates,  that  no  one  recognised  his  person. 
A  few  saw  that  a  stranger  was  in  their  midst ;  but,  under 
his  disguise,  no  one  was  quick  enough  of  eye  and  thought 
to  ascertain  who  that  stranger  was.  The  little  white  flag 
that  they  displayed,  denoted  the  errand  of  the  messengers ; 
the  rest  was  left  to  conjecture. 

As  soon  as  captain  Willoughby  ascertained  that  the  alarm 
of  the  morning  was  not  likely  to  lead  to  any  immediate  re 
sults,  he  had  dismissed  all  the  men,  with  the  exception  of  a 
small  guard,  that  was  stationed  near  the  outer  gate,  under 
the  immediate  orders  of  serjeant  Joyce.  The  latter  was  one 
of  those  soldiers  who  view  the  details  of  the  profession  as 
forming  its  great  essentials ;  and  when  he  saw  his  com 
mander  about  to  direct  a  sortie,  it  formed  his  pride  not  to 
ask  questions,  and  to  seem  to  know  nothing  about  it.  To 
this,  Jamie  Allen,  who  composed  one  of  the  guard,  quietly 
assented ;  but  it  was  a  great  privation  to  the  three  or  four 
New  England-men  to  be  commanded  not  to  inquire  into  the 
why  and  wherefore. 

"  Wait  for  orders,  men,  wait  for  orders,"  observed  the 
serjeant,  by  way  of  quieting  an  impatience  that  was  very 
apparent.  "  If  his  honour,  the  captain,  wished  us  to  be  ac 
quainted  with  his  movements,  he  would  direct  a  general 
parade,  and  lay  the  matter  before  us,  as  you  know  he  always 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  19 

docs,  on  proper  occasions.  'Tis  a  flag  going  out,  as  you 
can  see,  and  should  a  truce  follow,  we'll  lay  aside  our 
muskets,  and  seize  the  plough-shares ;  should  it  be  a  capi 
tulation —  I  know  our  brave  old  commander  too  well  to 
suppose  it  possible — but  should  it  be  even  that,  we  '11  ground 
arms  like  men,  and  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  And  should  Joel,  and  the  other  man,  who  is  a  stranger 
to  me,  be  scalped  ?"  demanded  one  of  the  party. 

"Then  we'll  avenge  their  scalps.  That  was  the  way 
with  us,  when  my  Lord  Howe  fell — <  avenge  his  death  !' 
cried  our  colonel ;  and  on  we  pushed,  until  near  two  thou 
sand  of  us  fell  before  the  Frenchmen's  trenches.  Oh  !  that 
was  a  sight  worth  seeing,  and  a  day  to  talk  of!" 

"  Yes,  but  you  were  threshed  soundly,  serjeant,  as  I  've 
heard  from  many  that  were  there." 

"What  of  that,  sir!  we  obeyed  orders.  *  Avenge  his 
death !'  was  the  cry ;  and  on  we  pushed,  in  obedience,  until 
there  were  not  men  enough  left  in  our  battalion  to  carry  the 
wounded  to  the  rear." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  them?"  asked  a  youth,  who 
regarded  the  serjeant  as  another  Caesar  —  Napoleon  not 
having  come  into  notice  in  1776. 

"  We  let  them  lie  where  they  fell.  Young  man,  war 
teaches  us  all  the  wholesome  lesson  that  impossibilities  are 
impossible  to  be  done.  War  is  the  great  schoolmaster  of  the 
human  race;  and  a  learned  man  is  he  who  has  made  nine 
teen  or  twenty  campaigns." 

"  If  he  live  to  turn  his  lessons  to  account" — remarked  the 
first  speaker,  with  a  sneer. 

"  If  a  man  is  to  die  in  battle,  sir,  he  had  better  die  with 
his  mind  stored  with  knowledge,  than  be  shot  like  a  dog 
that  has  outlived  his  usefulness.     Every  pitched  battle  car 
ries  out  of  the  world  learning  upon  learning  that  ha^ 
got  in  the  field.     Here  comes  his  honour,  who  will  confirm 
all  I  tell  you,  men.    I  was  letting  these  men,  sir,  und'- 
that  the  army  and  the  field  are  the  best  schools  on  earth. 
Kvcry  old  soldier  will  stick  to  that,  your  honour." 

"  \Ve  are  apt  to  think  so,  Joyce — have  the  arms  been  in 
spected  this  morning?" 

"  As  soon  as  it  was  light,  I  did  that  myself,  sir." 

"  Flints,  cartridge-boxes,  and  bayonets,  I  hope  ?" 


20  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Each  and  all,  sir.  Does  your  honour  remember  the 
morning  we  had  the  affair  near  Fort  du  Quesne?" 

"You  mean  Braddock's  defeat,  I  suppose,  Joyce?" 

"  I  call  nothing  a  defeat,  captain  Willoughby.  We  were 
roughly  handled  that  day,  sir ;  but  I  am  not  satisfied  it  was 
a  defeat.  It  is  true,  we  fell  back,  and  lost  some  arms  and 
stores ;  but,  in  the  main,  we  stuck  to  our  colours,  consider 
ing  it  was  in  the  woods.  No,  sir ;  I  do  not  call  that  a  de 
feat,  by  any  means." 

"  You  will  at  least  own  we  were  hard  pressed,  and  might 
have  fared  worse  than  we  did,  had  it  not  been  for  a  certain 
colonial  corps,  that  manfully  withstood  the  savages?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that  I  allow.  I  remember  the  corps,  and  its 
commander,  a  colonel  Washington,  with  your  honour's  per 
mission." 

"  It  was,  indeed,  Joyce.  And  do  you  happen  to  know 
what  has  became  of  this  same  colonel  Washington  ?" 

"  It  never  crossed  my  mind  to  inquire,  sir,  as  he  was  a 
provincial.  I  dare  say  he  may  have  a  regiment  —  or  even 
a  brigade  by  this  time ;  and  good  use  would  he  make  of 
either." 

"  You  have  fallen  far  behind  his  fortunes,  Joyce.  The 
man  is  a  commander-in-chief — a  captain-general." 

"  Your  honour  is  jesting — since  many  of  his  seniors  are 
still  living." 

"  This  is  the  man  who  leads  the  American  armies,  in  the 
war  with  England." 

"  Well,  sir,  in  that  way,  he  may  indeed  get  a  quick  step, 
or  two.  I  make  no  doubt,  sir,  so  good  a  soldier  will  know 
how  to  obey  orders." 

"  From  which  I  infer  you  think  him  right,  in  the  cause 
he  has  espoused  ?" 

"Bless  yoqr  honour,  sir,  I  think  nothing  about  it,  and 
care  nothing  about  it.  If  the  gentleman  has  taken  service 
with  congress,  as  they  call  the  new  head-quarters,  why  he 
ought  to  obey  congress  ;  and  if  he  serve  the  king,  His  Ma 
jesty's  orders  should  be  attended  to." 

"  And,  in  this  crisis,  serjeant,  may  I  ask  in  what  particu 
lar  service  you  conceive  yourself  to  be,  just  at  the  present 
moment  ?" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  21 

"  Captain  Willoughby's,  late  of  His  Majesty's th 

incut  of  Foot,  at  your  honour's  command." 

"  If  all  act  in  the  same  spirit,  Joyce,  we  shall  do  well 
enough  at  the  Knoll,  though  twice  as  many  savages  hrav? 
us  as  are  to  be  seen  on  yon  rocks,"  returned  the  captain, 
smiling. 

"And  why  should  they  no?"  demanded  Jamie  Allen, 
earnestly.  "  Ye  're  laird  here,  and  we  've  no  the  time,  nor 
the  grace,  to  study  and  understand  the  orthodoxy  and  he 
terodoxy  of  the  quarrel  atween  the  House  of  Hanover  and 
the  houses  of  these  Americans ;  so,  while  we  a'  stand  up 
for  the  house  and  household  of  our  old  maistcr,  the  Lord 
will  smile  on  our  efforts,  and  lead  us  to  victory." 

"  Divil  bur-r-n  me,  now,  Jamie,"  said  Mike,  who  having 
seen  the  major  to  the  gate,  now  followed  his  father,  in 
readiness  to  do  him  any  good  turn  that  might  offer — "  Divil 
bur-r-n  me,  now,  Jamie,  if  ye  could  have  said  it  better  had 
ye  just  aised  yer  conscience  to  a  proper  praist,  and  were 
talking  on  a  clanc  breast !  Stick  up  for  the  captain,  says  I, 
and  the  Lord  will  be  of  our  side!" 

The  serjcant  nodded  approbation  of  this  sentiment,  and 
the  younger  Pliny,  who  happened  also  to  be  within  hearing, 
uttered  the  sententious  word  "  gosh,"  and  clenched  his  fist, 
which  was  taken  as  proof  of  assent  also,  on  his  part.  But, 
the  Americans  of  the  guard,  all  of  whom  were  the  tools  of 
Joel's  and  the  miller's  arts,  manifested  a  coldness  that  even 
exceeded  the  usual  cold  manner  of  their  class.  These  men 
meant  right;  but  they  had  been  deluded  by  the  falsehoods, 
machinations,  and  frauds  of  a  demagogue,  and  were  no 
longer  masters  of  their  own  opinions  or  acts.  It  struck  the 
captain  that  something  was  wrong  ;  but,  a  foreigner  by  birth 
himself,  he  had  early  observed,  and  long  known,  the  pecu 
liar  exterior  and  phlegm  of  the  people  of  the  country,  which 
so  nearly  resemble  the  stoicism  of  the  aborigines,  as  to  in 
duce  many  writers  to  attribute  both  alike  to  a  cause  con 
nected  with  climate.  The  present  was  not  a  moment  how 
ever,  nor  was  the  impression  strong  enough  to  induce  the 
master  of  the  place  to  enter  into  any  inquiries.  Turning 
his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  two  bearers  of  the  flag,  he 
there  beheld  matter  for  new  interest,  completely  diverting 
his  thoughts  from  what  had  just  passed. 


22  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  I  see  they  have  sent  two  men  to  meet  our  messengers, 
serjeant,"  he  said — "  This  looks  as  if  they  understood  the 
laws  of  war." 

"  Quite  true,  your  honour.  They  should  now  blindfold 
our  party,  and  lead  them  within  their  own  works,  before 
they  suffer  them  to  see  at  all ;  though  there  would  be  no 
great  advantage  in  it,  as  Strides  is  as  well  acquainted  with 
every  inch  of  that  rock  as  I  am  with  the  manual  exercise." 

"  Which  would  seem  to  supersede  the  necessity  of  the 
ceremony  you  have  mentioned?" 

"  One  never  knows,  your  honour.  Blindfolding  is  accord 
ing  to  the  rules,  and  I  should  blindfold  a  flag  before  I  let 
him  approach,  though  the  hostile  ranks  stood  drawn  up,  one 
on  each  side  of  a  parade  ground.  Much  is  gained,  while 
nothing  is  ever  lost,  by  sticking  to  the  rules  of  a  trade." 

The  captain  smiled,  as  did  all  the  Americans  of  the  guard; 
the  last  having  too  much  sagacity  not  to  perceive  that  a 
thing  might  be  overdone,  as  well  as  too  little  attended  to. 
As  for  Jamie  and  Mike,  they  both  received  'the  Serjeant's 
opinions  as  law  ;  the  one  from  having  tried  the  troops  of  the 
iine  at  Culloden,  and  the  other  on  account  of  divers  expe 
riences  through  which  he  had  gone,  at  sundry  fairs,  in  his 
own  green  island.  By  this  time,  however,  all  were  too 
curious  in  watching  the  result  of  the  meeting,  to  continue 
the  discourse. 

Robert  Willoughby  and  Joel  had  moved  along  the  lane, 
towards  the  rocks,  without  hesitating,  keeping  their  little 
flag  flying.  It  did  not  appear  that  their  approach  produced 
any  change  among  the  savages,  who  were  now  preparing 
their  breakfasts,  until  they  had  got  within  two  hundred  yards 
of  the  encampment,  when  two  of  the  red-men,  having  first 
laid  aside  their  arms,  advanced  to  meet  their  visiters.  This 
was  the  interview  which  attracted  the  attention  of  those  at 
the  Hu%  and  Its  progress  was  noted  with  the  deepest  in 
terest. 

The  meeting  appeared  to  be  friendly.  After  a  short  con 
ference,  in  which  signs  seemed  to  be  a  material  agent  in  the 
communications,  the  four  moved  on  in  company,  walking 
deliberately  towards  the  rocks.  Captain  Willoughby  had 
sent  for  his  field-glass,  and  could  easily  perceive  much  that 
occurred  in  the  camp,  on  the  arrival  of  his  son.  The  major's 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  23 

movements  were  calm  and  steady,  and  a  feeling  of  pride 
passed  over  the  father's  heart,  as  hi;  noted  this,  amid  a 
scene  that  was  well  adapted  to  disturbing  the  equilibrium 
of  the  firmest  mind.  Joel  certainly  betrayed  nervousness, 
though  he  kept  close  at  his  companion's  side,  and  together 
they  proceeded  into  the  very  centre  of  the  party  of  strangers. 

The  captain  observed,  also,  that  this  arrival  caused  no 
visible  sensation  among  the  red-men.  Even  those  the  major 
almost  touched  in  passing  did  not  look  up  to  note  his  ap 
pearance,  while  no  one  seemed  to  speak,  or  in  any  manner 
to  heed  him.  The  cooking  and  other  preparations  for  tho 
breakfast  proceeded  precisely  as  if  no  one  had  entered  the 
camp.  The  two  who  had  gone  forth  to  meet  the  flag  alone 
attended  its  bearers,  whom  they  led  through  the  centre  of 
the  entire  party ;  stopping  only  on  the  side  opposite  to  the 
Hut,  where  there  was  an  open  space  of  flat  rock,  which  it 
had  not  suited  the  savages  to  occupy. 

Here  the  four  halted,  the  major  turning  and  looking  back 
like  a  soldier  who  was  examining  his  ground.  Nor  did  any 
one  appear  disposed  to  interrupt  him  in  an  employment 
that  serjeant  Joyce  pronounced  to  be  both  bold  and  against 
the  usages  of  war  to  permit.  The  captain  thought  the 
stoicism  of  the  savages  amounted  to  exaggeration,  and  it 
renewed  his  distrust  of  the  real  characters  of  his  visitors. 
In  a  minute  or  two,  however,  some  three  or  four  of  the  red- 
men  were  seen  consulting  together  apart,  after  which  they 
approached  the  bearers  of  the  flag,  and  some  communica 
tions  passed  between  the  two  sides.  The  nature  of  these 
communications  could  not  be  known,  of  course,  though  the 
conference  appeared  to  be  amicable.  After  two  or  three 
minutes  of  conversation,  Robert  Willoughby,  Strides,  the 
two  men  who  had  advanced  to  meet  them,  and  the  four 
chiefs  who  had  joined  the  group,  left  the  summit  of  the 
rock  in  company,  taking  a  foot-path  that  descended  in  the 
direction  of  the  mills.  In  a  short  time  they  all  disappeared 
in  a  body. 

The  distance  was  not  so  great  but  these  movements  could 
easily  be  seen  by  the  naked  eye,  though  the  glass  was  ne 
cessary  to  discover  some  of  the  details.  Captain  Willoughby 
had  planted  the  instrument  among  the  palisades,  and  he  kept 
his  gaze  riveted  on  the  retiring  group  as  long  as  it  was  visi- 


24  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

ble ;  then,  indeed,  he  looked  at  his  companions,  as  if  to  read 
their  opinions  in  their  countenances.  Joyce  understood  the 
expression  of  his  face ;  and,  saluting  in  the  usual  military 
manner,  he  presumed  to  speak,  in  the  way  of  reply. 

"  It  seems  all  right,  your  honour,  the  bandage  excepted," 
said  the  serjeant.  "  The  flag  has  been  met  at  the  outposts, 
and  led  into  the  camp ;  there  the  officer  of  the  day,  or  some 
savage  who  does  the  duty,  has  heard  his  errand ;  and,  no 
doubt,  they  have  all  now  gone  to  head-quarters,  to  report." 

"  I  desired  my  son,  Joyce " 

"Whom,  your  honour  —  ?" 

The  general  movement  told  the  captain  how  completely 
his  auditors  were  taken  by  surprise,  at  this  unlooked-for 
announcement  of  the  presence  of  the  major  at  the  Knoll.  It 
was  too  late  to  recall  the  words,  however,  and  there  was  so 
little  prospect  of  Robert's  escaping  the  penetration  of  Joel, 
the  father  saw  no  use  in  attempting  further  concealment. 

"  I  say  I  desired  my  son,  major  Willoughby,  who  is  the 
bearer  of  that  flag,"  the  captain  steadily  resumed,  "  to  raise 
his  hat  in  a  particular  manner,  if  all  seemed  right ;  or  to 
make  a  certain  gesture  with  his  left  arm,  did  he  see  any 
thing  that  required  us  to  be  more  than  usually  on  our 
guard." 

"  And  which  notice  has  he  given  to  the  garrison,  if  it  be 
your  honour's  pleasure  to  let  us  know  ?" 

"  Neither.  I  thought  he  manifested  an  intention  to  make 
the  signal  with  the  hat,  when  the  chiefs  first  joined  him  ;  but 
he  hesitated,  and  lowered  his  hand  without  doing  as  I  had 
expected.  Then,  again,  just  as  he  disappeared  behind  the 
rocks,  the  left  arm  was  in  motion,  though  not  in  a  way  to 
complete  the  signal." 

"  Did  he  seem  hurried,  your  honour,  as  if  prevented  from 
communicating  by  the  enemy?" 

"  Not  at  aH,  Joyce.  Irresolution  appeared  to  be  at  the 
bottom  of  it,  so  far  as  I  could  judge." 

"  Pardon  me,  your  honour ;  uncertainty  would  be  a  better 
word,  as  applied  to  so  good  a  soldier.  Has  major  Willoughby 
quitted  the  king's  service,  that  he  is  among  us,  sir,  just  at 
this  moment  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  his  errand  another  time,  serjeant.  At 
present,  I  can  think  only  of  the  risk  he  runs.  These  In- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  25 

dians  are  lawless  wretches ;  one  is  never  sure  of  theii 
faith." 

41  They  are  bad  enough,  sir ;  but  no  man  can  well  be  so 
bad  as  to  disregard  the  rights  of  a  flag,"  answered  the  ser- 
jrant,  in  a  grave  and  slightly  important  manner.  "  Even 
the  French,  your  honour,  have  always  respected  our  fags  " 

"That  is  true;  and,  yet,  I  wish  we  could  overlook  that 
position  at  the  mill.  It's  a  great  advantage  to  them,  Joyce, 
that  they  can  place  themselves  behind  such  a  cover,  when 
th«-y  choose !" 

The  scrjeant  looked  at  the  encampment  a  moment ;  then 
his  eye  followed  the  woods,  and  the  mountain  sides,  that 
skirted  the  little  plain,  until  his  back  was  fairly  turned  upon 
the  supposed  enemy,  and  he  faced  the  forest  in  the  rear  of 
the  Hut. 

"  If  it  be  agreeable  to  your  honour,  a  detachment  can  be 
detailed  to  make  a  demonstration" — Joyce  did  not  exactly 
understand  this  word,  but  it  sounded  military — "  in  the  fol 
lowing  manner :  I  can  lead  out  the  party,  by  the  rear  of 
the  house,  using  the  brook  as  a  covered-way.  Once  in  the 
woods,  it  will  be  easy  enough  to  make  a  flank  movement 
upon  the  enemy's  position  ;  after  which,  the  detachment  can 
be  guided  by  circumstances." 

This  was  very  martial  in  sound,  and  the  captain  felt  well 
assured  that  Joyce  was  the  man  to  attempt  carrying  out  his 
own  plan  ;  but  he  made  no  answer,  sighing  and  shaking  his 
head,  as  he  walked  away  towards  the  house.  The  chaplain 
followed,  leaving  the  rest  to  observe  the  savages. 

"  Ye're  proposition,  scrjeant,  no  seems  to  give  his  honour 
much  satisfaction,"  said  the  mason,  as  soon  as  his  superior 
was  out  of  hearing.  "  Still,  it  was  military,  as  I  know  by 
what  I  saw  mysal'  in  the  Forty-five.  Flainking,  and  sur 
prising,  and  obsairving,  and  demonstrating,  and  such  de 
vices,  are  the  soul  of  war,  and  are  a'  on  the  great  highway 
to  victory.  Had  Chairlie's  men  obsairved,  and  particularised 


of  the  pairty." 
VOL.  II.  — 3 


26  THE      II  U  T  T  E  D      KNOLL. 

"'I  didn't  think  the  captain  much  relished  the  notion  of 
being  questioned  about  his  son's  feelin's,  and  visit  up  here, 
at  a  time  like  this,"  put  in  one  of  the  Americans. 

"  There 's  bowels  in  the  man's  body  !"  cried  Mike,  "  and 
it  isn't  the  likes  of  him  that  has  no  falin'.  Ye  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  be  a  father,  or  ye'd  groan  in  spirit  to  see  a 
child  of  yer-own  in  the  grip  of  fiery  divils  like  them  same. 
Isn't  he  a  pratty  man,  and  wouldn't  I  be  sorrowful  to  hear 
that  he  had  come  to  har-r-m  ?  Ye  Ve  niver  asked,  serjeant, 
how  the  majjor  got  into  the  house,  and  ye  a  military  sentry 
in  the  bargain !" 

"  I  suppose  he  came  by  command,  Michael,  and  it  is  not 
the  duty  of  the  non-commissioned  officers  to  question  their 
superiors  about  anything  that  has  happened  out  of  the  com 
mon  way.  I  take  things  as  I  find  them,  and  obey  orders. 
I  only  hope  that  the  son,  as  a  field-officer,  will  not  out-rank 
the  father,  which  would  be  unbecoming;  though  date  of 
commissions,  and  superiority,  must  be  respected." 

"  I  rather  think  if  a  major  in  the  king's  service  was  to 
undertake  to  use  authority  here,"  said  the  spokesman  of  the 
Americans,  a  little  stiffly,  "  he  wouldn't  find  many  disposed 
to  follow  at  his  heels." 

"  Mutiny  would  not  fare  well,  did  it  dare  to  lift  its  head 
in  this  garrison" — answered  the  serjeant,  with  a  dignity  that 
might  better  have  suited  the  mess-room  of  a  regular  regiment, 
than  the  situation  in  which  he  was  actually  placed.  "  Both 
captain  Willoughby  and  myself  have  seen  mutiny  attempted, 
but  neither  has  ever  seen  it  succeed." 

"  Do  you '  look  on  us  as  lawful,  enlisted  soldiers  ?"  de 
manded  one  of  the  labourers,  who  had  a  sufficient  smattering 
of  the  law,  to  understand  the  difference  between  a  mercenary 
and  a  volunteer.  "  If  I  'm  regimented,  I  should  at  least  like 
to  know  in  whose  service  it  is  ?" 

"  Ye  're  over-quick  at  yer  objections  and  sentiments," 
said  Jamie  Allen,  coolly,  "  like  most  youths,  who  see  only 
their  ain  experience  in  the  airth,  and  the  providence  o'  the 
Lord.  Enlisted  we  are,  a'  of  us,  even  to  Michael  here,  and 
it 's  in  the  sairvice  of  our  good  master,  his  honour  captain 
Willoughby ;  whom,  with  his  kith  and  kin,  may  the  Lord 
presairve  from  this  and  all  other  dangers." 

The  word  master  would,  of  itself,  be  very  likely  to  create 


TI1EIIUTT12D     KNOLL.  27 

a  revolt  to-day,  in  such  a  corps  as  it  was  the  fortune  of  our 
captain  to  command,  though  to  that  of  "  boss"  there  would 
not  be  raised  the  slightest  objection.  lUit  the  Knglish  lan 
guage  had  not  undergone  half  of  its  present  mutations  in 
the  year  177G;  and  no  one  winced  in  admitting  that  he 
a  "  master,''  though  the  gorges  of  several  rose  at  the 
idea  of  being  engaged  in  the  service  of  any  one,  considered 
in  a  military  point  of  view.  It  is  likely  the  suggestion  of 
the  mason  would  have  led  to  a  hot  discussion,  had  not  a  stir 
among  the  savages,  just  at  that  instant,  called  off  the  atten 
tion  of  all  present,  to  matters  of  more  importance  than  even 
an  angry  argument. 

The  movement  seemed  to  be  general,  and  Joyce  ordered 
his  men  to  stand  to  their  arms  ;  still  he  hesitated  about 
giving  the  alarm.  Instead  of  advancing  towards  the  Hut, 
however,  the  Indians  raised  a  general  yell,  and  went  over 
the  cliffs,  disappearing  in  the  direction  of  the  mill,  like  a 
flock  of  birds  taking  wing  together.  After  waiting  half  an 
hour,  in  vain,  to  ascertain  if  any  signs  of  the  return  of  the 
Indians  were  to  be  seen,  the  serjeant  went  himself  to  report 
the  state  of  things  to  his  commander. 

Captain  Willoughby  had  withdrawn  to  make  his  toilet  for 
the  day,  when  he  saw  the  last  of  his  son  and  the  overseer. 
While  thus  employed  he  had  communicated  to  his  wife  all 
that  had  occurred ;  and  Mrs.  Willoughby,  in  her  turn,  had 
told  the  same  to  her  daughters.  Maud  was  much  the  most 
distressed,  her  suspicions  of  Joel  being  by  far  the  most  active 
and  the  most  serious.  From  the  instant  she  learned  what 
had  passed,  she  began  to  anticipate  grave  consequences  to 
Robert  Willoughby,  though  she  had  sufficient  fortitude,  and 
sufficient  consideration  for  others,  to  keep  most  of  her  ap 
prehensions  to  herself. 

When  Joyce  demanded  his  audience,  the  family  was  at 
breakfast,  though  little  was  eaten,  and  less  was  said.  The 
serjeant  was  admitted,  and  he  told  his  story  with  military 
precision. 

"  This  has  a  suspicious  air,  Joyce,"  observed  the  captain, 
after  musing  a  little ;  "  to  me  it  seems  like  an  attempt  to  in 
duce  us  to  follow,  and  to  draw  us  into  an  ambuscade." 

"  It  may  be  that,  your  honour ;  or,  it  may  be  a  good  ho 
nest  retreat.  Two  prisoners  is  a  considerable  exploit  for 


28  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

savages  to  achieve.  I  have  known  them  count  one  a  vie* 
tory." 

"  Be  not  uneasy,  Wilhelmina ;  Bob's  rank  will  secure 
him  good  treatment,  his  exchange  being  far  more  important 
to  his  captors,  if  captors  they  be,  than  his  death.  It  is  too 
soon  to  decide  on  such  a  point,  serjeant.  After  all,  the  In 
dians  may  be  at  the  mills,  in  council.  On  a  war-path,  all 
the  young  men  are  usually  consulted,  before  any  important 
step  is  taken.  Then,  it  may  be  the  wish  of  the  chiefs  to 
impress  our  flag-bearers  with  an  idea  of  their  force." 

"  All  that  is  military,  your  honour,  and  quite  possible. 
Still,  to  me  the  movement  seems  as  if  a  retreat  was  intended, 
in  fact,  or  that  the  appearance  of  one  was  in  view." 

"  I  will  soon  know  the  truth,"  cried  the  chaplain.  "  I,  a 
man  of  peace,  can  surely  go  forth,  and  ascertain  who  these 
people  are,  and  what  is  their  object." 

"  You,  Woods  !  My  dear  fellow,  do  you  imagine  a  tribe 
of  blood-thirsty  savages  will  respect  you,  or  your  sacred 
office?  You  have  a  sufficient  task  with  the  king's  forces, 
letting  his  enemies  alone.  You  are  no  missionary  to  still  a 
war-cry." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir" — put  in  the  serjeant — "  his  reverence 
is  more  than  half  right" — here  the  chaplain  rose,  and  quitted 
the  room  in  haste,  unobserved  by  the  two  colloquists  — 
"  There  is  scarce  a  tribe  in  the  colony,  your  honour,  that 
has  not  some  knowledge  of  our  priesthood ;  and  I  know  of 
no  instance  in  which  the  savages  have  ever  ill-treated  a 
divine." 

"  Poh,  poh,  Joyce ;  this  is  much  too  sentimental  for  your 
Mohawks,  and  Oneidas,  and  Onjndagas,  and  Tuscaroras. 
They  will  care  no  more  for  little  Woods  than  they  care  for 
the  great  woods  through  which  they  journey  on  their  infer 
nal  errands." 

"  One  cannot  know,  Hugh" — observed  the  anxious  mo 
ther — "  Our  dear  Robert  is  in  their  hands ;  and,  should  Mr. 
Woods  be  really  disposed  to  go  on  this  mission  of  mercy, 
does  it  comport  with  our  duty  as  parents  to  oppose  it?" 

"A  mother  is  all  mother"  —  murmured  the  captain,  who 
rose  from  table,  kissed  his  wife's  cheek  affectionately,  and 
left  the  room,  beckoning  to  the  serjeant  to  follow. 

Captain  Willoughby  had  not  been  gone  many  minutes, 


THE     HUTTED     K  N  O  L  L  .  29 

when  the  chaplain  made  his  appearance,  attired  in  his  sur 
plice,  ami  u  curing  his  best  wig  ;  an  appliance  that  ail  elderly 
gentlemen  in  that  day  fancied  necessary  to  the  dignity  and 
gravity  of  their  appi  arance.  .Mrs.  Willoughby,  to  own  the 
truth,  was  delighted.  If  this  excellent  woman  was  ever 
unjust,  it  was  in  behalf  of  her  children  ;  solicitude  for  whom 
sometimes  induced  her  to  overlook  the  rigid  construction  of 
the  laws  of  equality. 

"  We  will  see  which  best  understands  the  influence  of  the 
sanvd  ofiice,  captain  Willoughby,  or  myself;"  observed  the 
chaplain,  with  a  little  more  importance  of  manner  than  it 
was  usual  for  one  so  simple  to  assume.  "  I  do  not  believe 
the  ministry  was  instituted  to  be  brow-beaten  by  tribes  of 
savages,  any  more  than  it  is  to  be  silenced  by  the  unbe 
liever,  or  schismatic." 

It  was  very  evident  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods  was  consi 
derably  excited  ;  and  this  was  a  condition  of  mind  so  unusual 
with  him,  as  to  create  a  species  of  awe  in  the  observers.  As 
for  the  two  young  women,  deeply  as  they  were  interested 
in  the  result,  and  keenly  as  Maud,  in  particular,  felt  every 
thing  which  touched  the  fortunes  of  Robert  Willoughby, 
neither  would  presume  to  interfere,  when  they  saw  one 
whom  they  had  been  taught  to  reverence  from  childhood, 
acting  in  a  way  that  so  little  conformed  to  his  ordinary 
manner.  As  for  Mrs.  WiUoughby,  her  own  feelings  were 
so  much  awakened,  that  never  had  Mr.  Woods  seemed  so 
evangelical  and  like  a  saint,  as  at  that  very  moment;  and 
it  would  not  have  been  difficult  to  persuade  her  that  he  was 
acting  under  something  very  like  righteous  superhuman  im 
pulses. 

Such,  however,  was  far  from  being  the  case.  The  worthy- 
priest  had  an  exalted  idea  of  his  office ;  and,  to  fancy  it 
might  favorably  impress  even  savages,  was  little  more  than 
;  ng  out  his  every-day  notions  of  its  authority.  He  con 
scientiously  believed  that  he,  himself,  a  regularly  ordained 
presbyter,  would  be  more  likely  to  succeed  in  the  under 
taking  before  him,  than  a  mere  deacon  ;  were  a  bishop  p re- 
he  would  cheerfully  have  submitted  to  his  superior 
claims  to  sanctity  and  success.  As  for  arch-bishops,  arch 
deacons,  deans,  rural  deans,  and  all  the  other  worldly  ma 
chinery  which  has  been  superaddcd  to  the  church,  the  truth 


30  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

compels  us  to  add,  that  our  divine  felt  no  especial  reverence, 
since  he  considered  them  as  so  much  clerical  surplusage, 
of  very  questionable  authority,  and  of  doubtful  use.  He 
adhered  strictly  to  the  orders  of  divine  institution ;  to  these 
he  attached  so  much  weight,  as  to  be  entirely  willing,  in 
his  own  person,  to  demonstrate  how  little  was  to  be  appre 
hended,  when  their  power  was  put  forth,  even  against  Indians, 
in  humility  and  faith. 

"  I  shall  take  this  sprig  of  laurel  in  my  hand,  in  lieu  of 
the  olive-branch,"  said  the  excited  chaplain,  "  as  the  symbol 
of  peace.  It  is  not  probable  that  savages  can  tell  one  plant 
from  the  other ;  and  if  they  could,  it  will  be  easy  to  explain 
that  olives  do  not  grow  in  America.  It  is  an  eastern  tree, 
ladies,  and  furnishes  the  pleasant  oil  we  use  on  our  salads. 
I  carry  with  me,  notwithstanding,  the  oil  which  proves  a 
balm  to  many  sorrows ;  that  will  be  sufficient." 

"  You  will  bid  them  let  Robert  return  to  us,  without  de 
lay?"  said  Mrs.  Willoughby,  earnestly. 

"  I  shall  bid  them  respect  God  and  their  consciences.  I 
cannot  now  stop  to  rehearse  to  you  the  mode  of  proceeding 
1  shall  adopt ;  but  it  is  all  arranged  in  my  own  mind.  It 
will  be  necessary  to  call  the  Deity  the  '  Great  Spirit'  or 
'  Manitou' — and  to  use  many  poetical  images  ;  but  this  can 
I  do,  on  an  emergency.  Extempore  preaching  is  far  from 
agreeable  to  me,  in  general ;  nor  do  I  look  upon  it,  in  this 
age  of  the  world,  as  exactly  canonical ;  nevertheless,  it  shall 
be  seen  I  know  how  to  submit  even  to  that,  when  there  is  a 
suitable  necessity." 

It  was  so  seldom  Mr.  Woods  used  such  magnificent  ideas, 
or  assumed  a  manner  in  the  least  distinguishable  from  one 
of  the  utmost  simplicity,  that  his  listeners  now  felt  really 
awed ;  and  when  he  turned  to  bless  them,  as  he  did  with 
solemnity  and  affection,  the  two  daughters  knelt  to  receive 
his  benedictions.  These  delivered,  he  walked  out  of  the 
room,  crossed  the  court,  and  proceeded  straightway  to  the 
outer  gate. 

It  was,  perhaps,  fortunate  to  the  design  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Woods,  that  neither  the  captain  nor  the  serjeant  was  in  the 
way,  to  arrest  it.  This  the  former  would  certainly  have 
done,  out  of  regard  to  his  friend,  and  the  last  out  of  regard 
to  "  orders."  But  these  military  personages  were  in  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  3J 

library,  in  deep  consultation  concerning  the  next  step  neces 
sary  to  take.  This  left  the  coast  clear,  no  one  belonging  to 
the  guard  conceiving  himself  of  sufficient  authority  to  stop 
the  chaplain,  more  especially  when  he  appeared  in  his  wig 
and  surplice.  Jamie  Allen  was  a  corporal,  by  courtesy ; 
and,  at  the  first  summons,  he  caused  the  outer  gate  to  be 
unlocked  and  unbarred,  permitting  the  chaplain  to  make 
his  egress,  attended  by  his  own  respectfub  bows.  This  Jamio 
did,  out  of  reverence  to  religion,  generally;  though  the  sur 
plice  ever  excited  his  disgust ;  and,  as  for  the  Liturgy,  he 
deemed  it  to  be  a  species  of  solemn  mockery  of  worship. 

The  captain  did  not  reappear  outside  of  the  court,  until 
the  chaplain,  who  had  made  the  best  of  his  way  towards  tho 
rocks,  was  actually  stalking  like  a  ghost  among  ruins, 
through  the  deserted  shantees  of  the  late  encampment. 

u  What  in  the  name  of  Indian  artifice  is  the  white  animal 
that  I  see  moving  about  on  the  rocks  ?"  demanded  the  cap 
tain,  whose  look  was  first  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 
camp. 

"  It  seems  an  Indian  wrapped  up  in  a  shirt,  your  honour 
— as  I  live,  sir,  it  has  a  cocked  hat  on  its  head !" 

"  Na  —  na"  —  interrupted  Jamie,  "  ye  Ml  no  be  guessing 
the  truth  this  time,  without  the  aid  of  a  little  profane  reve 
lation.  The  chiel  ye  see  yan,  yer  honour,  is  just  chaplain 
Woods." 

«  Woods— the  devil !" 

"Na  —  na  —  yer  honour,  it's  the  reverend  gentleman, 
hissel',  and  no  the  de'il,  at  a'.  He's  in  his  white  frock  — 
though  why  he  didn't  wear  his  black  gairment  is  more  than 
I  can  tell  ye — but  there  he  is,  walking  about  amang  the  In 
dian  dwellings,  all  the  same  as  if  they  were  so  many  pews 
in  his  ain  kirk." 

"  And,  how  came  you  to  let  him  pass  the  gate,  against 
orders?" 

"  Well,  and  it  is  aboot  the  orders  of  the  priesthood,  that 
he  so  often  preaches,  and  seeing  him  in  the  white  gairment, 
and  knowing  ye  Jve  so  many  fast-days,  and  Christmas',  iu 
the  kirk  o'  England,  I  fancied  it  might  be  a  bit  matter  o' 
prayer  he  wished  to  offer  up,  yan,  in  the  house  on  the  flat  ; 
and  so  I  e'en  thought  church  prayers  better  than  no  prayers 
at  nil,  in  such  a  strait." 


32  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

As  it  was  useless  to  complain,  the  captain  was  fain  to 
submit,  even  beginning  to  hope  some  good  might  come  of 
the  adventure,  when  he  saw  Mr.  Woods  walking  unmolested 
through  the  deserted  camp.  The  glass  was  levelled,  and 
the  result  was  watched  in  intense  interest. 

The  chaplain  first  explored  every  shantee,  fearlessly  and 
with  diligence.  Then  he  descended  the  rocks,  and  was  lost 
to  view,  like  those  who  had  preceded  him.  A  feverish  hour 
passed,  without  any  symptom  of  human  life  appearing  in 
the  direction  of  the  mills.  Sometimes  those  who  watched, 
fancied  they  beheld  a  smoke  beginning  to  steal  up  over  the 
brow  of  the  rocks,  the  precursor  of  the  expected  conflagra 
tion  ;  but  a  few  moments  dispersed  the  apprehension  and 
the  fancied  smoke  together.  The  day  advanced,  and  yet 
the  genius  of  solitude  reigned  over  the  mysterious  glen. 
Not  a  sound  emerged  from  it,  not  a  human  form  was  seen 
near  it,  not  a  sign  of  a  hostile  assault  or  of  a  friendly  return 
could  be  detected.  All  in  that  direction  lay  buried  in  silence, 
as  if  the  ravine  had  swallowed  its  tenants,  in  imitation  of 
the  grave. 


CHAPTER    III. 

To  deck  my  list  by  Nature  were  design'd 

Such  shining1  expletives  of  human  kind; 

Who  want,  while  through  blank  life  they  dream  along, 

Sense  to  be  right,  and  passion  to  be  wrong. 

YOUNG. 

THE  disappearance  of  Mr.  Woods  occasioned  no  uneasi 
ness  at  first.  An  hour  elapsed  before  the  captain  thought  it 
necessary  to  relate  the  occurrence  to  his  family,  when  a 
general  panic  prevailed  among  the  females.  Even  Maud 
bad  hoped  the  savages  would  respect  the  sacred  character 
of  the  divine,  though  she  knew  not  why ;  and  here  was  one 
of  her  principal  grounds  of  hope,  as  connected  with  Robert 
Willoughby,  slid  from  beneath  her  feet. 

"  What  can  we  do,  Willoughby  ?"  asked  the  affectionate 
mother,  almost  reduced  to  despair.  "  I  will  go  myself,  in 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  33 

search  of  my  son — they  will  respect  me,  a  woman  and  a 
mother." 

"  You  little  know  the  enemy  we  have  to  deal  with,  \Vil- 
helmina,  or  so  rash  a  thought  could  not  have  crossed  your 
mind.  We  will  not  be  precipitate ;  a  few  hours  may  bring 
some  change  to  direct  us.  One  thing  I  learn  from  Woods' 
delay.  The  Indians  cannot  be  far  oil',  and  he  must  be  with 
them,  or  in  their  halids ;  else  would  he  return  after  having 
visited  the  mills  and  the  houses  beneath  the  cliffs." 

This  sounded  probable,  and  all  felt  there  was  a  relief  in 
fancying  that  their  friends  were  still  near  them,  and  were 
not  traversing  the  wilderness  as  captives. 

"  I  feel  less  apprehension  than  any  of  you,"  observed 
Bculali,  in  her  placid  manner.  "  If  Bob  is  in  the  hands  of 
an  American  party,  the  brother-in-law  of  Evert  liftman 
cannot  come  to  much  harm  ;  with  British  Indians  he  will 
be  respected  for  his  own  sake,  as  soon  as  he  can  make  him 
self  known." 

"I  have  thought  of  all  this,  my  child"  —  answered  the 
father,  musing — "  and  there  is  reason  in  it.  It  will  be  difti- 
cult,  however,  for  Hob  to  make  his  real  character  certain, 
in  his  present  circumstances.  He  does  not  appear  the  man 
he  is ;  and  should  there  even  be  a  white  among  his  captors 
who  can  read,  he  has  not  a  paper  with  him  to  sustain  his 
word." 

"  But,  he  promised  me  faithfully  to  use  Evert's  name, 
did  he  ever  fall  into  American  hands"  —  resumed  Beulah, 
earnestly — "  and  Evert  has  said,  again  and  again,  that  my 
brother  could  never  be  his  enemy." 

u  Heaven  help  us  all,  dear  child  !"  answered  the  captain, 
kissing  his  daughter  —  "It  is,  indeed,  a  cruel  war,  wh«-n 
such  aids  are  to  be  called  in  for  our  protection.  We  will 
endeavour  to  be  cheerful,  notwithstanding;  for  we  know  of 
nothing  yet,  that  ought  to  alarm  us,  out  of  reason;  all  may 
come  right  before  the  sun  set." 

The  captain  looked  at  his  family,  and  endeavoured  to 
smile,  but  he  met  no  answering  gleam  of  happiness  on  either 
face;  nor  was  his  own  eiiort  very  siicrc^ful.  As  for  his 
wife,  she  was  never  known  to  be.  atijrht  but  miserable,  while 
any  she  loved  were  in  doubtful  safety.  She  lived  entirely 
out  of  herself,  and  altogether  for  her  husband,  children,  and 


84  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

friends  ;  a  woman  less  selfish,  or  one  more  devoted  to  the 
affections,  never  existing.  Then  Beulah,  with  all  her  reli 
ance  on  the  magic  of  Evert's  name,  and  with  the  deep  feel 
ings  that  had  been  awakened  within  her,  as  a  wife  and  a 
mother,  still  loved  her  brother  as  tenderly  as  ever.  As  for 
Maud,  the  agony  she  endured  was  increased  by  her  efforts 
to  keep  it  from  breaking  out  in  some  paroxysm  that  might 
betray  her  secret ;  and  her  features  were  getting  an  expres 
sion  of  stern  resolution,  which,  blended  with  her  beauty, 
gave  them  a  grandeur  her  father  had  never  before  seen  in 
her  bright  countenance. 

"  This  child  suffers  on  Bob's  account  more  than  any  of 
us"  —  observed  the  captain,  drawing  his  pet  towards  him, 
placing  her  kindly  on  his  knee,  and  folding  her  to  his 
bosom.  "  She  has  no  husband  yet,  to  divide  her  heart ;  all 
her  love  centres  in  her  brother." 

The  look  which  Beulah  cast  upon  her  father  was  not  re 
proachful,  for  that  was  an  expression  she  would  not  have 
indulged  with  him ;  but  it  was  one  in  which  pain  and  mor 
tification  were  so  obvious,  as  to  induce  the  mother  to  receive 
her  into  her  own  arms. 

"Hugh,  you  are  unjust  to  Beulah"  —  said  the  anxious 
mother—"  Nothing  can  ever  cause  this  dear  girl,  either,  to 
forget  to  feel  for  any  of  us." 

The  captain's  ready  explanation,  and  affectionate  kiss, 
brought  a  smile  again  to  Beulah's  face,  though  it  shone  amid 
tears.  All  was,  however,  immediately  forgotten  ;  for  the 
parties  understood  each  other,  and  Maud  profited  by  the 
scene  to  escape  from  the  room.  This  flight  broke  up  the 
conference ;  and  the  captain,  after  exhorting  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  set  an  example  of  fortitude  to  the  rest  of  the 
females,  left  the  house,  to  look  after  his  duties  among  the 
men. 

The  absence  of  Joel  cast  a  shade  of  doubt  over  the  minds 
of  the  disaffected.  These  last  were  comparatively  numerous, 
comprising  most  of  the  native  Americans  in  the  Hut,  the 
blacks  "and  Joyce  excepted.  Strides  had  been  enabled  to 
effect  his  purposes  more  easily  with  his  own  countrymen, 
by  working  on  their  good  qualities,  as  well  as  on  their  bad. 
Many  of  these  men  —  most  of  them,  indeed  —  meant  well ; 
but  their  attachment  to  the  cause  of  their  native  land  laid 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  35 

them  open  to  assaults,  aiiainst  which  Mike  and  Jamie  All. n 
w«'iv  iusi-nsihlo.  Captain  \Villoughby  was  an  Englishman, 
in  the  first  pirn-  an  old  anny-ofliccr,  in  the  next; 

and  lie  had  an  only  son  who  was  confessedly  in  open  arms 
against  the  independence  of  America.  It  is  easy  to  sec  how 
a  demagogue  like  Joel,  who  had  free  access  to  the  cars  of 
his  comrades,  could  improve  circumstances  like  these  to  his 
own  particular  objects.  Nevertheless,  he  had  difficulties  to 
contend  with.  If  it  were  true  that  parson  Woods  still  in 
sisted  on  praying  for  the  king,  it  was  known  that  the  captain 
laughed  at  him  for  his  reverence  for  Caesar ;  if  Robert.  Wil- 
loughby  were  a  major  in  the  royal  forces,  Evert  Beekman 
was  a  colonel  in  the  continentals  ;  if  the  owner  of  the  manor 
were  born  in  England,  his  wife  and  children  were  born  in 
America ;  and  he,  himself,  was  often  heard  to  express  his 
convictions  of  the  justice  of  most  of  that  for  which  the  pro 
vincials  were  contending  —  all,  the  worthy  captain  had  not 
yet  made  up  his  mind  to  concede  to  them. 

Then,  most  of  the  Americans  in  the  Hut  entertained  none 
of  the  selfish  and  narrow  views  of  Joel  and  the  miller.  Their 
wish  was  to  do  right,  in  the  main  ;  and  though  obnoxious  to 
the  charge  of  entertaining  certain  prejudices  that  rendered 
them  peculiarly  liable  to  become  the  dupes  of  a  demagogue, 
they  submitted  to  many  of  the  better  impulses,  and  were 
indisposed  to  be  guilty  of  any  act  of  downright  injustice. 
The  perfect  integrity  with  which  they  had  ever  been  treated, 
too,  had  its  influence  ;  nor  was  the  habitual  kindness  of  Mrs. 
"Willoughby  to  their  wives  and  children  forgotten;  nor  tho 
gentleness  of  Beulah,  or  the  beauty,  spirit,  and  generous 
impulses  of  Maud.  In  a  word,  the  captain,  when  he  went 
forth  to  review  his  men,  who  were  now  all  assembled  under 
arms  within  the  palisades  for  that  purpose,  went  to  meet  a 
wavering,  rather  than  a  positively  disaffected  or  rebellious 
body. 

"  Attention !"  cried  Joyce,  as  his  commanding  officer 
came  in  front  of  a  line  which  contained  men  of  different 
colours,  statures,  ages,  dresses,  countries,  habits  and  phy 
siognomies,  making  it  a  sort  of  epitome  of  the  population  of 
the  whole  colony,  as  it  existed  in  that  day  —  "  Attention  ! 
Present,  arms." 

The  captain  pulled  off  his  hat  complacently,  in  return  to 


£5G  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

this  salute,  though  he  was  obliged  to  smile  at  the  army 
which  met  his  eyes.  Every  one  of  the  Dutchmen  had  got 
his  musket  to  an  order,  following  a  sort  of  fugleman  of  their 
own ;  while  Mike  had  invented  a  "  motion"  that  would  have 
puzzled  any  one  but  himself  to  account  for.  The  butt  of 
the  piece  was  projected  towards  the  captain,  quite  out  of 
line,  while  the  barrel  rested  on  his  own  shoulder.  Still,  as 
his  arms  were  extended  to  the  utmost,  the  county  Leitrim- 
man  fancied  he  was  performing  much  better  than  common. 
Jamie  had  correct  notions  of  the  perpendicular,  from  having 
used  the  plumb-bob  so  much,  though  even  he  made  the 
trifling  mistake  of  presenting  arms  with  the  lock  outwards. 
As  for  the  Yankees,  they  were  all  tolerably  exact,  in  every 
thing  but  time,  and  the  line  ;  bringing  their  pieces  down,  one 
after  another,  much  as  they  were  in  the  practice  of  follow 
ing  their  leaders,  in  matters  of  opinion.  The  negroes  defied 
description;  nor  was  it  surprising  they  failed,  each  of  them 
thrusting  his  head  forward  to  see  how  the  "  motions"  look 
ed,  in  a  way  that  prevented  any  particular  attention  to  his 
own  part  of  the  duty.  The  serjeant  had  the  good  sense  to 
see  that  his  drill  had  not  yet  produced  perfection,  and  he 
brought  his  men  to  a  shoulder  again,  as  soon  as  possible. 
In  this  he  succeeded  perfectly,  with  the  exception  that  just 
half  of  the  arms  were  brought  to  the  right,  and  the  other 
half  to  the  left  shoulders. 

"  We  shall  do  better,  your  honour,  as  we  get  a  little  more 
drill" — said  Joyce,  with  an  apologetic  salute — "  Corporal 
Strides  has  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  manual,  and  he  usually 
acts  as  our  fugleman.  When  he  gets  back,  we  shall  im 
prove." 

"When  he  gets  back,  serjeant  —  can  you,  or  any  other 
man,  tell  when  that  will  be  ?" 

"  Yes,  yer  honour,"  sputtered  Mike,  with  the  eagerness 
of  a  boy.  "  I  'se-the  man  to  tell  yees  that  same." 

"  You  1  —  What  can  you  know,  that  is  not  known  to  all 
of  us,  my  good  Michael  ?" 

"  I  knows  what  I  sees  ;  and  if  yon  isn't  Misther  Strhides, 
then  I  am  not  acquainted  with  his  sthraddle." 

Sure  enough,  Joel  appeared  at  the  gate,  as  Mike  concluded 
his  assertions.  Flow  he  got  there,  no  one  knew ;  for  a  good 
look-out  had  been  kept  in  the  direction  of  the  mill ;  and,  yet, 


TUB     HUTTED     KNOLL.  37 

here  was  the  overseer  applying  for  admission,  as  if  lie  had 
fallen  from  the,  clouds  !  Of  course,  the  application  was  not 
denied,  though  made;  in  a  manner  so  unexpected,  and  Joel 
stood  in  front  of  his  old  comrades  at  the  hoe  and  plough, 
if  not  in  arms,  in  less  than  a  minute.  His  return  was  pro 
claimed  through  the  house  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time,  by  the  aid  of  the  children,  and  all  the  females  came 
pouring  out  from  the  court  to  learn  the  tidings,  led  by  Mrs. 
iStridt-s  and  her  young  brood. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  communicate  to  me  in  private, 
s  ?"  the  captain  demanded,  maintaining  an  appearance 
of  sang  froid  that  lie  was  far  from  feeling  —  "  or,  can  your 
report  be  made  here,  before  the  whole  settlement ?" 

"  It 's  just  as  the  captain  pleases,"  answered  the  wily  de 
magogue;  "though,  to  my  notion,  the  people  have  a  right 
to  know  all,  in  an  aiiair  that  touches  the  common  interest." 

"  Attention  !  men"  —  cried  the  serjeant  —  "By  platoons, 
to  the  right " 

"  No  matter,  Joyce,"  interrupted  the  captain,  waving  his 
hand — "  Let  the  men  remain.  You  have  held  communica 
tions  with  our  visiters,  I  know,  Strides  ?" 

"  \Ve  have,  captain  \Villoiighby,  and  a  desperate  sort  of 
visitors  be  they  !  A  more  ugly  set  of  Mohawks  and  Onon- 
dagas  1  ii'-ver  laid  eyes  on." 

"As  for  their  appearance,  it  is  matter  of  indifference  to 
me — what  is  the  object  of  their  visit?" 

"  I  mean  ugly  behaved,  and  they  deserve  all  I  say  of  'em. 
Their  ar'nd,  according  to  their  own  tell,  is  to  seize  tho 
captain,  and  his  family,  in  behalf  of  the  colonies." 

Joel  uttered  this,  he  cast  a  glance  along  the  line  of 
paraded  before  him,  in  order  to  read  the  effect  it  might 
produce.  That  it  was  not  lost  on  some,  was  as  evi-l 
that  it  was  on  others.  The  captain,  however,  appeared  tin- 
moved,  and  there  was  a  slight  air  of  incredulity  in  the  smile 
that  curled  his  lip. 

u  This,  then,  you  report  as  being  the  business  of  the  party 
in  coming  to  this  place!"  he  said,  quietly. 

"  I  do,  sir;  and  an  ugly  ar'nd  it  is,  in"  times  like  these." 

"  Is  there  any  person  in  authority  in  a  party  that  pretenda 
to  move  about  the  colony,  with  such  high  duties?" 

VOL.  II.  —  4 


3S  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  There 's  one  or  two  white  men  among  'em,  if  that 's 
what  the  captain  means;  they  pretend  to  be  duly  authorised 
and  app'inted  to  act  in  behalf  of  the  people." 

At  each  allusion  to  the  people,  Joel  invariably  looked  to 
wards  his  particular  partisans,  in  order  to  note  the  effect  the 
use  of  the  word  might  produce.  On  the  present  occasion, 
lie  even  ventured  to  wink  at  the  miller. 

"  If  acting  on  authority,  why  do  they  keep  aloof? — I  have 
no  such  character  for  resisting  the  laws,  that  any  who  come 
clothed  with  its  mantle  need  fear  resistance." 

"  Why,  I  s'pose  they  reason  in  some  such  manner  as  this. 
There's  two  laws  in  operation  at  this  time;  the  king's  law, 
and  the  people's  law.  I  take  it,  this  party  comes  in  virtue 
of  the  people's  law,  whereas  it  is  likely  the  law  the  captain 
means  is  the  king's  law.  The  difference  is  so  great,  that 
one  or  t'other  carries  the  day,  just  as  the  king's  friends  or 
the  people's  friends  happen  to  be  the  strongest.  These  men 
don't  like  to  trust  to  their  law,  when  the  captain  may  think 
it  safest  to  trust  a  little  to  his'n." 

"  And  all  this  was  told  you,  Strides,  in  order  to  be  repeat 
ed  to  me  ?" 

"  Not  a  word  on 't ;  it 's  all  my  own  consait  about  the 
matter.  Little  passed  between  us." 

"  And,  now,"  said  the  captain,  relieving  his  breast  by  a 
long  sigh,  "  I  presume  I  may  inquire  about  your  companion. 
You  probably  have  ascertained  who  he  is  ?" 

"  Lord,  captain  Wiiloughby,  I  was  altogether  dumb 
founded,  when  the  truth  came  upon  me  of  a  sudden !  I 
never  should  have  known  the  major  in  that  dress,  in  the 
world,  or  out  of  the  world  either;  but  he  walks  so  like  the 
captain,  that  as  I  followed  a'ter  him,  I  said  to  myself,  who 
can  it  be?  —  and  then  the  walk  came  over  me,  as  it  might 
be ;  and  then  I  remembered  last  night,  and  the  stranger  that 
was  out  with  the  captain,  and  how  he  occupied  the  room 
next  to  the  library,  and  them  things;  and  so,  when  I  come 
to  look  in  his  face,  there  was  the  major  sure  enough !" 

Joel  lied  famously  in  this  account ;  but  he  believed  him 
self  safe,  as  no  one  could  very  well  contradict  him. 

"  Now,  you  have  explained  the  manner  in  which  you  re 
cognised  my  son,  Strides,"  added  the  captain,  "  I  will  thank 
you  to  let  me  know  what  has  become  of  him?" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  3D 

"He's  with  the  savages.  Having  come  so  far  to  seize 
the  father,  it  wasn't  in  natur'  to  let  the  son  go  free,  when 
he  walked  right  into  the  lion's  don,  like." 

"  And  how  could  the  s-iva«res  know  he  was  my  son?  Did 
they,  too,  recognise  the  family  walk  ?" 

Strides  was  taken  aback  at  this  question,  and  he  even  had 
the  grace  to  colour  a  little.  He  saw  that  lie  was  critically 
placed ;  for,  in  addition  to  the  suggestions  of  conscience,  he 
understood  the  captain  sufficiently  to  know  he  was  a  man 
w  ho  would  not  trifle,  in  the  event  of  his  suspicions  becoming 
active.  lie  knew  he  deserved  the  gallows,  and  Joyce  was 
a  man  who  would  execute  him  in  an  instant,  did  his  com 
mander  order  it.  The  idea  fairly  made  the  traitor  tremble 
in  his  shoes. 

"  Ah  !  I  Ve  got  a  little  ahead  of  my  story,"  he  said, 
hastily.  «*  But,  perhaps  I  had  best  tell  everything  as  it 
happened — " 

"  That  will  be  the  simplest  and  clearest  course.  In  order 
that  there  be  no  interruption,  we  will  go  into  my  room, 
whore  Joyce  will  follow  us,  as  soon  as  he  has  dismissed  his 
men." 

This  was  done,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  the  captain  and 
Jorl  were  seated  in  the  library,  Joyce  respectfully  standing; 
the  old  soldier  always  declining  to  assume  any  familiarity 
with  his  superior.  We  shall  give  the  substance  of  most  of 
Joel's  report  in  our  own  language;  preferring  it,  defective 
as  it  is,  to  that  of  the  overseer's,  which  was  no  bad  repre 
sentative  of  his  cunning,  treacherous  and  low  mind. 

It  seems,  then,  that  the  bearers  of  the  flag  were  amicably 
received  by  the  Indians.  The  men  towards  whom  they  were 
led  on  the  rocks,  were  the  chiefs  of  the  party,  who  treated 
them  with  proper  respect.  The  sudden  movement  was  ex 
plained  to  them,  as  connected  with  their  meal;  and  the  chiefs, 
accompanied  by  the  major  and  Strides,  proceeded  to  tho 
house  of  the  miller.  Here,  by  means  of  a  white  man  for 
an  interpreter,  the  major  had  demanded  tho  motive  of  the 
strangers  in  coming  into  tho  settlement.  The  answer  was 
a  frank  demand  for  the  surrender  of  the  Hut,  and  all  it  con 
tained,  to  the  authorities  of  the  continental  congress.  The 
major  had  endeavoured  to  persuade  a  white  man,  who  pro 
fessed  to  hold  the  legal  authority  for  what  was  doing,  of  the 


40  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

perfectly  neutral  disposition  of  his  father,  when,  according 
to  Joel's  account,  to  his  own  great  astonishment,  the  argu 
ment  was  met  by  the  announcement  of  Robert  Willoughby's 
true  character,  and  a  sneering  demand  if  it  were  likely  a 
man  who  had  a  son  in  the  royal  army,  and  who  had  kept 
that  son  secreted  in  his  own  house,  would  be  very  indifferent 
to  the  success  of  the  royal  cause. 

"  They  Ve  got  a  wonderful  smart  man  there  for  a  magis 
trate,  I  can  tell  you,"  added  Joel,  with  emphasis,  "  and  he 
ra'ally  bore  as  hard  on  the  major  as  a  lawyer  before  a  court. 
How  he  found  out  that  the  major  was  at  the  Hut  is  a  little 
strange,  seein'  that  none  of  us  know'd  of  it ;  but  they  've  got 
extraor'nary  means,  now-a-days." 

"  And,  did  major  Willoughby  admit  his  true  character, 
when  charged  with  being  in  the  king's  service  ?" 

"  He  did — and  like  a  gentleman.  He  only  insisted  that 
his  sole  ar'nd  out  here  was  to  see  his  folks,  and  that  he  in 
tended  to  go  back  to  York  the  moment  he  had  paid  his 
visit." 

"  How  did  the  person  you  mention  receive  his  explana 
tions  ?" 

"  Waal,  to  own  the  truth,  he  laugh'd  at  it,  like  all  natur'. 
I  don't  believe  they  put  any  great  weight  on  a  syllable  the 
major  told  'em.  I  never  see  critturs  with  such  onbelievin' 
faces  !  After  talking  as  long  as  suited  themselves,  they  or 
dered  the  major  to  be  shut  up  in  a  buttery,  with  a  warrior 
at  the  door  for  a  sentinel ;  a'ter  which  they  took  to  examin 
ing  me." 

Joel  then  proceeded  with  an  account  —  his  own  account, 
always,  be  it  remembered — of  what  passed  between  himself 
and  the  strangers.  They  had  questioned  him  closely  touch 
ing  the  nature  of  the  defences  of  the  Hut,  the  strength  of  the 
garrison,  its  disposition,  the  number  and  quality  of  the  arms, 
and  the  amount  of  the  ammunition. 

"  You  may  depend  on 't,  I  gave  a  good  account,"  conti 
nued  the  overseer,  in  a  self-satisfied  way.  "  In  the  first 
place,  I  told  'em,  the  captain  had  a  lieutenant  with  him  that 
had  sarved  out  the  whull  French  war;  then  I  put  the  men 
up  to  fifty  at  once,  seein'  it  was  just  as  easy  to  say  that,  as 
thirty  or  thirty-three.  As  to  the  arms,  I  told  'em  more  than 
half  the  pieces  were  double-barrelled ;  and  that  the  captain, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  41 

in  particular,  carried  a  rifle  that  had  killed  nine  savages  in 
on<-  light." 

"  You  were  much  mistaken  in  that,  Joel.  It  is  '-rue,  that 
a  celebrated  chief  once  fell  by  this  rifle ;  even  that  is  not  a 
matter  for  boasting." 

"  Waal,  them  that  told  me  on't,  said  that  two  had  fallen 
before  it,  and  I  put  it  up  to  nine  at  once,  to  make  a  good 
story  better.  Nine  men  had  a  more  desperate  sound  than 
two ;  and  when  you  do  begin  to  brag,  a  man  shouldn't  be 
backward.  I  thought,  howsevcr,  that  they  was  most  non 
plussed,  when  I  told  'em  of  the  field-piece." 

"The  field-piece,  Strides! — Why  did  you  venture  on  an 
exaggeration  that  any  forward  movement  of  theirs  must 
expi 

"We'll  sec  to  that,  captain  —  we'll  see  to  that.  Field- 
pieces  are  desperate  dampers  to  Indian  courage,  so  I  thought 
1  'd  just  let  'em  have  a  six-pounder,  by  way  of  try  in'  their 
natur's.  They  look'd  like  men  go-in'  to  execution,  when  I 
told  'em  of  the  cannon,  and  what  a  history  it  had  gone 
through." 

"And  what  may  have  been  this  history,  pray?" 

"  I  just  told  'em  it  was  the  very  gun  the  captain  had  took 
from  the  French,  about  which  we  've  all  heern  tell ;  and 
that,  as  everybody  knows,  was  a  desperate  piece,  havin' 
killed  more  than  a  hundred  reg'lars,  before  the  captain 
chared  bayonet  on  it,  and  carried  it  off." 

This  was  a  very  artful  speech,  since  it  alluded  to  the  most 
distinguished  exploit  of  captain  Willoughby's  military  life ; 
one  of  which  it  would  have  been  more  than  human,  had  lie 
not  been  a  little  proud.  All  who  knew  him,  had  heard  of 
this  adventure,  and  Joel  cunningly  turned  it  to  account,  in 
the  manner  seen.  The  allusion  served  to  put  to  sleep,  for 
the  moment  at  least,  certain  very  unpleasant  suspicions  that 
"were  getting  to  be  active  in  his  superior's  mind. 

"There  was  no  necessity,  Strides,  for  saying  anything 
about  that  ailair" — the  captain,  modestly,  interposed.  "  It 
happened  a  long  time  since,  and  might  well  be  forgotten. 
Then,  you  know  we  have  no  gun  to  support  your  account; 
when  our  deficiency  is  ascertained,  it  will  all  be  set  down 
to  the  true  cause — a  wish  to  conceal  our  real  weakness." 
4* 


42  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  I  beg  your  honour's  pardon,"  put  in  Joyce — "  I  think 
Strides  has  acted  in  a  military  manner  in  this  affair.  It  is 
according  to  the  art  of  war  for  the  besieged  to  pretend  to  bo 
stronger  than  they  are ;  and  even  besiegers  sometimes  put  a 
oetter  face  than  the  truth  will  warrant,  on  their  strength. 
Military  accounts,  as  your  honour  well  knows,  never  pass 
exactly  for  gospel,  unless  it  be  with  the  raw  hands." 

"  Then,"  added  Joel,  "  I  know'd  what  I  was  about,  seein 
that  we  had  a  cannon  ready  for  use,  as  soon  as  it  could  be 
-    mounted." 

"  I  think  I  understand  Strides,  your  honour,"  resumed 
the  serjeant.  "  I  have  carved  a  '  quaker,'  as  an  ornament 
for  the  gateway,  intending  to  saw  it  in  two,  in  the  middle, 
and  place  the  pieces,  crosswise,  over  the  entrance,  as  your 
honour  has  often  seen  such  things  in  garrisons  —  like  the 
brass  ornaments  on  the  artillery  caps,  I  mean,  your  honour. 
Well,  this  gun  is  finished  and  painted,  and  I  intended  to  split 
it,  and  have  it  up  this  very  week.  I  suppose  Joel  has  had 
it  in  his  mind,  quaker  fashion." 

"  The  Serjeant's  right.  That  piece  looks  as  much  like  a 
real  cannon  as  one  of  our  cathechisms  is  like  another.  The 
muzzle  is  more  than  a  foot  deep,  and  has  a  plaguy  gun 
powder  look  !" 

"  But  this  gun  is  not  mounted ;  even  if  it  were,  it  could 
only  be  set  up  for  show,"  observed  the  captain. 

"  Put  that  cannon  up  once,  and  I  '11  answer  for  it  that  no 
Injin  faces  it.  'Twill  be  as  good  as  a  dozen  sentinels,"  an 
swered  Joel.  "  As  for  mountin',  I  thought  of  that  before  I 
said  a  syllabl-e  about  the  crittur.  There's  the  new  truck- 
wheels  in  the  court,  all  ready  to  hold  it,  and  the  carpenters 
can  put  the  hinder  part  to  the  whull,  in  an  hour  or  two,  and 
that  in  a  way  no  Injin  could  tell  the  difference  between  it 
and  a  ra'al  cannon,  at  ten  yards." 

"  This  is  plausible,  your  honour,"  said  Joyce,  respect 
fully,  "  and  it  shows  that  corporal  Strides" — Joel  insisted  he 
was  a  serjeant,  but  the  real  Simon  Pure  never  gave  htm  a 
title  higher  than  that  of  corporal — "  and  it  shows  that  cor 
poral  Strides  has  an  idea  of  war.  By  mounting  that  piece, 
and  using  it  with  discretion  —  refusing  it,  at  the  right  mo 
ment,  and  showing  it  at  another  —  a  great  deal  might  be 
done  with  it,  either  in  a  siege  or  an  assault.  If  your  honour 


Till:      IIITTKD     KNOLL.  43 

will  excuse  the  liberty,  I  would  n -sportfully  suggest  that  it 
might  be  well  to  set  the  quaker  on  his  legs,"  and  plailt  him 
at  l ho  gate,  as  an  exhortcr." 

The  captain  reflected  a  moim-nt,  and  then  desired  the 
overseer  to  proceed  in  his  account.  The  rest  of  Joel's  story 
was  soon  told.  lie  had  mystified  the  strangers,  according 
to  his  own  account  of  the  matter,  so  thoroughly,  by  nlU-'-t- 
ing  to  withhold  nothing,  that  they  considered  him  as  a  sort 
of  ally,  and  did  not  put  him  in  confinement  at  all.  It  is 
true,  he  was  placed  en  surveillance  /  but  the  duty  was  so 
carelessly  performed,  that,  at  the  right  moment,  he  had 
passed  down  the  ravine,  a  direction  in  which  a  movement 
was  not  expected,  and  buried  himself  in  the  woods,  so  very 
nil -dually  that  it  would  have  baffled  pursuit,  had  any  been 
attempted.  After  making  a  very  long  detour,  that  consumed 
hours,  he  turned  the  entire  valley,  and  actually  reached  the 
Hut,  under  the  cover  of  the  rivulet  and  its  bushes,  or  pre 
cisely  by  the  route  in  which  he  and  Mike  had  gone  forth,  in 
quest  of  Maud,  the  evening  of  the  major's  arrival.  This 
latter  fact,  however,  Joel  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  con- 
cealing. 

"  You  have  told  us  nothing  of  Mr.  Woods,  Strides,"  the 
captain  observed,  when  Joel's  account  was  ended. 

"  Mr.  Woods  !  I  can  tell  the  captain  nothing  of  that  gen 
tleman  ;  I  supposed  he  was  here." 

The  manner  in  which  the  chaplain  had  left  the  Hut,  and 
his  disappearance  in  the  ravine,  were  then  explained  to  the 
overseer,  who  evidently  had  quitted  the  mill,  on  his  return, 
before  the  divine  performed  his  exploit.  There  was  a 
sinister  expression  in  Joel's  eyes,  as  he  heard  the  account, 
that  might  have  given  the  alarm  to  men  more  suspicious 
than  the  two  old  soldiers;  but  he  had  the  address  to  conceal 
all  he  felt  or  thought. 

"  If  Mr.  Woods  has  gone  into  the  hands  of  the  Injins,  in 
his  church  shirt,"  rejoined  the  overseer,  "  his  case  is  hope 
less,  so  far  as  captivity  is  consarned.  One  of  the  charges 
i  the  captain  is,  that  the  chaplain  ho  keeps  prays  as 
regulairly  for  the  king  as  ho  used  to  do  when  it  was  lawful, 
and  agreeable  to  public  foolin'." 

"  This  you  heard,  while  under  examination  before  the 
magistrate  you  have  named?"  demanded  the  captain. 


44  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  As  good  as  that,  and  something  more  to  the  same  p'int. 
The  'squire  complained  awfully  of  a  minister's  prayin'  for 
the  king  and  r'yal  family,  when  the  country  was  fightin' 
'em." 

"  In  that,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods  only  obeys  orders,"  said 
the  serjeant. 

"  But  they  say  not.  The  orders  is  gone  out,  now,  they 
pretend,  for  no  man  to  pray  for  any  on  'em." 

"  Ay  —  orders  from  the  magistrates,  perhaps.  But  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Woods  is  a  divine,  and  has  his  own  superiors  ire 
the  church,  and  they  must  issue  the  commands  that  he  obeys. 
I  dare  to  say,  your  honour,  if  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
or  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  church,  whoever  he  may 
be,  should  issue  a  general  order  directing  all  the  parsons 
not  to  pray  for  King  George,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods  would 
have  no  scruple  about  obeying.  But,  it's  a  different  thing 
when  a  justice  of  the  peace  undertakes  to  stand  fugleman 
for  the  clergy.  It's  like  a  navy  captain  undertaking  to 
wheel  a  regiment." 

"  Poor  Woods  !"  exclaimed  the  captain  —  "  Had  he  been 
ruled  by  me,  he  would  have  dropped  those  prayers,  and  it 
would  have  been  better  for  us  both.  But,  he  is  of  your 
opinion,  serjeant,  and  thinks  that  a  layman  can  have  no 
authority  over  a  gownsman." 

"  And  isn't  he  right,  your  honour  !  Think  what  a  mess 
of  it  the  militia  officers  make,  when  they  undertake  to  med 
dle  with  a  regular  corps.  Some  of  our  greatest  difficulties 
in  the  last  war  came  from  such  awkward  hands  attempting 
to  manage  machines  of  which  they  had  no  just  notions.  As 
for  praying,  your  honour,  I'm  no  wise  particular  who  I  pray 
for,  or  what  I  pray  for,  so  long  as  it  be  all  set  down  in  ge 
neral  orders  that  come  from  the  right  head-quarters ;  and  I 
think  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods  ought  to  be  judged  by  the  same 
rule." 

As  the  captain  saw  no  use  in  prolonging  the  dialogue,  he 
dismissed  his  companions.  He  then  sought  his  wife,  in 
order  to  make  her  acquainted  with  the  actual  state  of  things. 
This  last  was  a  painful  duty,  though  Mrs.  Willoughby  and 
her  daughters  heard  the  truth  with  less  of  apprehension 
than  the  husband  and  father  had  anticipated.  They  had 
suffered  so  much  from  uncertainty,  that  there  was  a  relief 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  45 

in  learning  the  truth.  The  mother  did  not  think  the  autho 
rities  of  the  colony  would  hurt  her  son,  whom  she  fancied 
all  men  must,  in  a  (Krivo,  love  as  she  loved.  Jlrulah  thought 
of  her  own  husband  as  Bob's  salt-guard;  while  Maud  ll-lt  it 
to  be  comparative  happinrs  >  to  know  he  was  unharmed,  and 
still  so  near  her. 

This  unpleasant  duty  discharged,  the  captain  hegan  to 
bethink  him  seriously  of  his  military  trust.  After  some 
reflection,  and  listening  to  a  few  more  suggestions  from 
Joyce,  he  consented  to  let  the  "  quaker"  be  put  on  wheels. 
The  carpenters  were  immediately  set  at  work  to  achieve 
this  job,  which  the  serjeant  volunteered  to  superintend,  in 
person.  As  for  Joel,  his  wife  and  children,  with  the  mil 
ler,  occupied  most  of  the  morning;  the  day  turning,  and 
even  drawing  towards  its  close,  ere  he  became  visible, 
as  had  formerly  been  his  wont,  among  the  men  of  the  settle 
ment. 

All  this  time,  everything  without  the  palisades  lay  in  the 
silence  of  nature.  The  sun  cast  its  glories  athwart  the  lovely 
scene,  as  in  one  of  the  Sabbaths  of  the  woods ;  but  man 
was  nowh'-rr  visible.  Not  a  hostile  Indian,  or  white,  exhi 
bited  himself;  and  the  captain  began  to  suspect  that,  satis 
fied  with  their  captures,  the  party  had  commenced  its  return 
towards  the  river,  postponing  his  own  arrest  for  some  other 
occasion.  So  strong  did  this  impression  become  towards 
the  close  of  the  day,  that  he  was  actually  engaged  in  writing 
to  some  friends  of  influence  in  Albany  and  on  the  Mohawk 
to  interpose  their  names  and  characters  in  his  son's  behalf, 
wlu'ii  the  serjeant,  about  nine  o'clock,  the  hour  when  he  had 
been  ordered  to  parade  the  guard  for  tho  first  half  of  the 
night,  presented  himself  at  the  door  of  his  room,  to  mako 
an  important  report. 

"  What  now,  Joyce?"  demanded  the  captain.  "  Are  any 
of  our  fellows  s-leepy,  and  plead  illness?" 

"Worse  than  that,  your  honour,  I  greatly  fear,"  was  thn 
answer.  Of  the  ten  men  your  honour  commanded  me  to 
detail  for  the  guard,  five  are  missing.  I  set  them  down  as 
deserters." 

"  Deserters  !  —  This  is  serious,  indeed  ;  let  the  signal  bo 
made  for  a  general  parade  —  the  people  cannot  yet  have 
gone  to  bed ;  we  will  look  into  this." 


46  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

As  Joyce  made  it  matter  of  religion  "  to  obey  orders," 
this  command  was  immediately  put  in  execution.  In  five 
minutes,  a  messenger  came  to  summon  the  captain  to  the 
court,  where  the  garrison  was  under  arms.  The  serjeant 
stood  in  front  of  the  little  party,  with  a  lantern,  holding  his 
muster-roll  in  his  hand.  The  first  glance  told  the  captain 
that  a  serious  reduction  had  taken  place  in  his  forces,  and 
he  led  the  serjeant  aside  to  hear  his  report. 

"  What  is  the  result  of  your  inquiries,  Joyce  T'  he  de 
manded,  with  more  uneasiness  than  he  would  have  liked  to 
betray  openly. 

"  We  have  lost  just  half  our  men,  sir.  The  miller,  most 
of  the  Yankees,  and  two  of  the  Dutchmen,  are  not  on  pa 
rade  ;  neither  is  one  of  them  to  be  found  in  his  quarters. 
They  have  either  gone  over  to  the  enemy,  captain  Willough- 
by,  or,  disliking  the  appearance  of  things  here,  they  have 
taken  to  the  woods  for  safety." 

"  And  abandoned  their  wives  and  children,  serjeant !  Men 
would  scarcely  do  that." 

"  Their  wives  and  children  have  deserted  too,  sir.  Not  a 
chick  or  child  belonging  to  either  of  the  runaways  is  to  be 
found  in  the  Hut." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"  For  all  the  Welshmen,  hearing  thou  wert  dead, 
Are  gone  to  Bolingbroke,  dispersed  and  fled." 

Richard  III. 

THIS  was  startling  intelligence  to  receive  just  as  night 
had  shut  in,  and  under  the  other  circumstances  of  the  case. 
Touching  the  men  who  still  remained,  captain  Willoughby 
conceived  it  prudent  to  inquire  into  their  characters  and 
names,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  ground  he  stood  on,  and  tc 
govern  his  future  course  accordingly.  He  put  the  question 
to  the  serjeant,  therefore,  as  soon  as  he  could  lead  him  far 
enough  from  the  little  array,  to  be  certain  he  was  out  of 
car-shot. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  47 

"We  have  .Michael  O'Hearn,  Jamie  Allen,  the  two  car- 
pcntcrs,  the  thn  ••  niters,  Joel,  and  the  three  Dutchmen 
that  last  mine  into  the  settlement,  and  the  two  lads  that 
Strides  engaged  at  the  beginning  of  the  year,  left,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Those,  counting  your  honour  and  myself,  make 
just  fifteen  men ;  quite  enough  yet,  I  should  think,  to 
make  good  the  house,  in  case  of  an  assault  —  though  1  lear 
everything  like  an  outwork  must  be  abandoned. " 

"  On  the  whole,  these  are  the  best  of  our  men,"  returned 
the  captain ;  "  I  mean  the  most  trustworthy.  I  count  on 
Mike,  Jamie,  and  the  blacks,  as  being  as  much  to  be  relied 
on  as  we  are  ourselves.  Joel,  too,  is  a  man  of  resources, 
if  he  will  but  do  his  duty  under  fire." 

"  Corporal  Strides  is  still  an  untried  soldier,  your  honour; 
though  recruits,  even,  sometimes  do  wonders.  Of  course,  I 
shall  reduce  the  guard  to  half  its  former  strength,  as  the 
men  must  have  some  sleep,  sir." 

"  We  must  depend  very  much  on  your  vigilance  and 
mine,  to-night,  Joyce.  You  shall  take  the  guard  till  one, 
when  I  will  stand  it  for  the  rest  of  the  night.  I  will  speak 
to  the  men  before  you  dismiss  them.  An  encouraging  word, 
just  now,  may  be  worth  a  platoon  to  us." 

The  serjeant  seldom  dissented  from  any  suggestion  of  his 
commanding  officer,  and  the  scheme  was  carried  out  on  the 
spot.  The  lantern  was  so  placed  as  to  permit  the  captain  to 
see  the  heterogeneous  row  of  countenances  that  was  drawn 
up  before  him,  and  he  proceeded : 

"  It  seems,  my  friends,"  he  said,  "  that  some  of  our  people 
have  been  seized  with  a  panic,  and  have  deserted.  These 
mistaken  men  have  not  only  fled  themselves,  but  they  Invo 
induced  their  wives  and  children  to  follow  them.  A  little 
reflection  will  show  you  to  what  distress  all  must  be  reduced 
by  this  ill-judged  flight.  Fifty  miles  from  another  settlement 
of  any  size,  and  more  than  thirty  from  even  a  single  huf, 
beyond  the  cabin  of  a  hunter,  days  must  pass  before  they 
can  reach  a  place  of  safety,  even  should  they  escape  the 
savage  foe  that  we  know  to  be  scouring  the  woods.  The 
•n  and  children  will  not  have  sufficient  art  to  conceal 
their  trail,  nor  sufficient  strength  to  hold  out  against  hunger 
and  fatigue  many  hours.  God  forgive  them  for  what  they 
have  done,  and  guide  them  through  the  difficulties  and  pains 


48  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

by  which  they  are  menaced  !  As  for  us,  we  must  determine 
to  do  our  whole  duty,  or,  at  once  to  retire,  with  the  consent 
of  each  other.  If  there  is  a  man  among  you,  then,  who 
apprehends  the  consequences  of  standing  to  his  arms,  and 
of  defending  this  house,  let  him  confess  it  frankly ;  he  shall 
have  leave  to  depart,  with  all  that  belongs  to  him,  taking 
food  and  the  means  of  subsistence  and  defence  with  him.  I 
wish  no  man  to  remain  with  me  and  mine,  but  he  who  can 
do  it  cheerfully.  The  night  is  now  dark,  and,  by  quitting 
the  Hut  at  an  early  hour,  such  a  start  might  be  gained  over 
any  pursuers,  as  to  place  him  in  comparative  security  before 
morning.  If  any  such  man  is  here,  let  him  now  speak  out 
honestly,  and  fear  nothing.  The  gate  shall  be  opened  for 
his  march." 

The  captain  paused,  but  not  a  soul  answered.  A  common 
sentiment  of  loyalty  seemed  to  bind  every  one  of  the  listeners 
to  his  duty.  The  dark  eyes  of  the  negroes  rolled  along  the 
short  rank  to  see  who  would  be  the  first  to  desert  their  mas 
ter,  and  grins  of  delight  showed  the  satisfaction  with 
which  they  noted  the  effect  of  the  appeal.  As  for  Mike,  he 
felt  too  strongly  to  keep  silence,  and  he  muttered  the  passing 
impnessions  aloud. 

"  Och  !" — growled  the  county  Leitrim-man — "  Is  it  a  good 
journey  that  I  wish  the  runaways  ?  That  it  isn't,  nor  many 
a  good  male  either,  as  they  trudge  alang  t'rough  the  woods, 
with  their  own  consciences  forenent  their  eyes,  pricking 
them  up  to  come  back,  like  so  many  t'ieves  of  the  wor-r-ld, 
as  they  are,  every  mother's  son  of  'em,  women  and  all.  I  'd 
nivir  do  that;  no,  not  if  my  head  was  all  scalp,  down  to  the 
soles  of  my  fut,  and  an  Injin  was  at  every  inch  of  it,  to  cut 
out  his  summer  clothes  of  my  own  skin.  Talk  of  religion 
amang  sich  cr'athures  !  —  Why,  there  isn't  enough  moral  in 
one  of  thim  to  carry  him  through  the  shortest  prayer  the 
Lord  allows  a  Christian  to  utter.  Divil  burn  'em  say  I,  and 
that's  my  kindest  wish  in  their  behalf." 

The  captain  waited  patiently  for  this  soliloquy  to  termi 
nate  ;  then  he  dismissed  the  men,  with  a  few  more  words 
of  encouragement,  and  his  thanks  for  the  fidelity  they,  at 
least,  had  shown.  By  this  time  the  night  had  got  to  be  dark, 
and  the  court  was  much  more  so,  on  account  of  the  shadows 
of  the  buildings,  than  places  in  the  open  air.  As  the  captain 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  49 

turned  aside  to  give  his  last  instructions  to  Joyce,  he  disco- 
vered,  by  the  light  of  the  lantern  the  latter  held,  a  figure 
standing  at  no  great  distance,  quite  dimly  seen  on  account 
of  its  proximity  to  the  walls  of  the  Hut.  It  was  clearly  a 
iii.-tn  ;  and  as  all  the  males  able  to  bear  arms,  a  single  sen 
tinel  outside  the  court  exceptcd,  were  supposed  to  be  in  the 
group  that  had  not  yet  separated,  the  necessity  of  ascer 
taining  the  character  of  this  unlooked-for  visiter  flashed  on 
the  minds  of  both  the  old  soldiers  at  the  same  instant.  Joyce 
raised  the  lantern,  as  they  moved  quickly  towards  the  mo 
tionless  form,  and  its  light  glanced  athwart  a  pair  of  wild, 
glowing,  dark  eyes,  and  the  red  visage  of  an  Indian. 

"  Nick  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "is  that  you?  —  V/hat 
has  brought  you  here  again,  and  how  have  you  entered  the 
palisades?  —  Do  you  come  as  a  friend,  to  aid  us,  or  as  an 
enemy  ?" 

"  Too  much  question,  cap'in — too  much  like  squaw ;  ask 
all  togeder.  Go  to  book-room ;  Nick  follow ;  tell  all  he  got 
to  say." 

The  captain  whispered  the  serjeant  to  ascertain  whether 
thf  watch  without  was  vigilant,  when  he  led  the  way  to  the 
library,  where,  as  he  expected,  he  found  his  wife  and  daugh 
ters,  anxiously  waiting  his  appearance. 

"  Oh  !  Hugh,  I  trust  it  is  not  as  bad  as  we  feared  !"  cried 
the  mother,  as  the  captain  entered  the  room,  closely  attended 
by  the  Tuscarora ;  "  our  men  cannot  be  so  heartless  as  to 
desert  us  at  such  a  moment !" 

The  captain  kissed  his  wife,  said  a  word  or  two  of  en 
couragement,  and  pointed  to  the  Indian. 

••  Nick  !"  exclaimed  all  three  of  the  females,  in  a  breath. 
Though  the  tones  of  their  voices  denoted  very  different  sen 
sations,  at  the  unexpected  appearance  of  their  old  acquaint- 
an<-e.    .Mrs.  Willouiihby's  exclamation  was  not  without  plea 
sure,  for  she  thought  the  man  her  friend  ;   Beulah's  was 
filled  with  alarm,  little  Evert  and  savage  massacres  suddenly 
-ing  the  sensitive  mind  of  the   young   mother;  while 
Maud's  tone  had  much  of  the  stejrn  resolution  that  she  had 
summoned  to  sustain  her  in  a  moment  of  such  fearful  trial. 
"  Yes,  Nick  —  Sassy  Nick,"  repeated  the  Indian,  in  his 
guttural  voice — "  Ole  friend — you  no  glad  sec  him?" 
VOL.  II.-5 


50  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  That  will  depend  on  your  errand,"  interposed  the  cap 
tain.  "  Are  you  one  of  the  party  that  is  now  lying  at  the 
mill  ?  —  but,  stop  ;  how  did  you  get  within  the  palisades  ? 
First  answer  me  that." 

"  Come  in.  Tree  no  good  to  stop  Injin.  Can't  do  it 
vvid  branches,  how  do  it  widout?  Want  plenty  of  musket 
and  plenty  of  soldier  to  do  dat.  Dis  no  garrison,  cap'in,  to 
make  Nick  afeard.  Always  tell  him  too  much  hole  to  be 
tight." 

"  This  is  not  answering  my  question,  fellow.  By  what 
means  did  you  pass  the  palisades?" 

"  What  means?  —  Injin  means,  sartain.  Came  like  cat, 
jump  like  deer,  slide  like  snake.  Nick  great  Tuscarora 
chief;  know  well  how  warrior  march,  when  he  dig  up 
hatchet." 

"  And  Nick  has  been  a  great  hanger-on  of  garrisons,  and 
should  know  the  use  that  I  can  make  of  his  back.  You 
will  remember,  Tuscarora,  that  I  have  had  you  flogged, 
more  than  once,  in  my  day." 

This  was  said  menacingly,  and  with  more  warmth,  per 
haps,  than  was  prudent.  It  caused  the  listeners  to  start,  as 
if  a  sudden  and  new  danger  rose  before  their  eyes,  and  the 
anxious  looks  he  encountered  warned  the  captain  that  he 
was  probably  going  too  far.  As  for  Nick,  himself,  the  ga 
thering  thunder-cloud  is  not  darker  than  his  visage  became 
at  the  words  he  heard ;  it  seemed  by  the  moral  writhing  of 
his  spirit  as  if  every  disgracing  blow  he  had  received  was  at 
that  instant  torturing  his  flesh  anew,  blended  with  the  keenest 
feelings  of  ignominy.  Captain  Willoughby  was  startled  at 
the  effect  he  had  produced  ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  change  his 
course ;  and  he  remained  in  dignified  quiet,  awaiting  the 
workings  of  the  Tuscarora's  mind. 

It  was  more  than  a  minute  ere  Nick  made  any  reply. 
Gradually,  but  tvery  slowly,  the  expression  of  his  visage 
changed.  It  finally  became  as  stoical  in  expression  as  se 
vere  training  could  render  the  human  countenance,  and  as 
unmoved  as  marble.  Then  he  found  the  language  he 
wanted. 

^  "  Listen,"  said  the  Indian,  sternly.  "  Cap'in  ole  man. 
(lot  a  head  like  snow  on  rock.  He  bold  soldier;  but  he 
no  got  wisdom  enough  for  gray  hair.  Why  he  put  he  hand 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  51 

rough,  on  pi  arc  where  whip  strike  .'  Wi>r  man  iicbber  do 
dat.  Last  winter  lie  cold;  fire  wanted  to  make,  him  warm. 
Mueh  iff,  miu-h  storm,  inueh  snow.  \\"orld  serin  bad — lit 
only  for  bear,  and  snake,  dat  hide  in  rock.  Well;  winter 
gone  away  ;  ice  gone  away  ;  snow  gone  away  ;  storm  gone 
away.  Summer  come,  in  his  place.  Kbbery  t'ing  good — 
obbcry  t'ing  pleasant.  Why  fink  of  winter,  when  summer 
come,  and  drive  him  away  wid  pleasant  sky?" 

"  In  order  to  provide  for  its  return.  He  who  never  thought 
of  the  evil  day,  in  the  hour  of  his  prosperity,  would  find  that 
he  lias  forgotten,  not  only  a  duty,  but  the  course  of  wis 
dom." 

«•  He  not  wise!"  said  Nick,  sternly.  "  Cap'in  pale-face 
chief.  He  got  garrison;  got  soldier;  got  musket.  Well, 
he  flog  warrior's  back  ;  make  blood  come.  Dat  bad  enough ; 
worse  to  put  finger  on  ole  sore,  and  make  'e  pain,  and  'e 
shame,  come  back  ag'in." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  more  generous,  Nick,  to 
have  said  nothing  about  it ;  but,  you  see  how  I  am  situated  ; 
an  enemy  without,  my  men  deserting,  a  bad  look-out,  and 
one  finding  his  way  into  my  very  court-yard,  and  I  ignorant 
of  the  means." 

"  Nick  tell  cap'in  all  about  means.  If  red-men  outside, 
shoot  Vw;  if  garrison  run  away,  flog  garrison;  if  don't 
know,  Tarn  ;  but,  don't  flog  back,  ag'in,  on  olc  sore !" 

"  Well,  well,  say  no  more  about  it,  Nick.  Here  is  a  dollar 
to  keep  you  in  rum,  and  we  will  talk  of  other  matters." 

Nick  heeded  not  the  money,  though  it  was  held  before  his 
.  some  little  time,  to  tempt  him.  Perceiving  that  the 
,  rora  was  now  acting  as  a  warrior  and  a  chief,  which 
Nick  would  do,  and  do  well,  on  occasion,  the  captain  pock 
eted  the  oflerinc,  and  regulated  his  own  course  accordingly. 

"  At  all  events,  I  have  a  right  to  insist  on  knowing,  firs!, 
l»y  what  means  you  entered  the  palisades  ;  and,  second, 
\\*hat  business  has  brought  you  here,  at  night,  and  so  sud 
denly." 

"  Ask  Nick,  cap'in,  all  he  right  to  ask ;  but,  don't  touch 
ole  fii".:.  H"W  I  cross  palisade?  Where  your  sentinel  to 
stop  Injin?  One  at  gate;  well,  none  all  round,  t'other  place. 
Get  in,  up  here,  down  dere,  over  yonder.  Ten,  twenty, 
t'ree  spot  —  s'pose  him  tree?  climb  him.  S'posc  him  pa- 


T  il  E     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

lisade?  —  climb  him,  too.  What  help?  —  Soldier  out  at  gate, 
when  Nick  get  over  t'other  end  !  Come  in  court,  too,  when 
he  want.  Half  gate  half  no  gate.  So  easy,  'shamed  to  brag 
of.  Cap'in  once  Nick's  friend  —  went  on  same  war-path  — 
dat  in  ole  time.  Both  warrior;  both  went  ag'in  French 
garrison.  Well  ;  who  crept  in,  close  by  cannon,  open  gate, 
let  pale-men  in.  Great  Tuscarora  do  dat;  no  flog,  den  — 
no  talk  of  ole  sore,  dat  night  !" 

"  This  is  all  true  enough,  Wyandotte"  —  This  was  Nick's 
loftiest  appellation  ;  and  a  grim,  but  faint  smile  crossed  his 
visage,  as  he  heard  it,  again,  in  the  mouth  of  one  who  had 
known  him  when  its  sound  carried  terror  to  the  hearts  of 
his  enemies  —  "  This  is  all  true,  Wyandotte,  and  I  have  ever 
given  you  credit  for  it.  On  that  occasion  you  were  bold  as 
the  lion,  and  as  cunning  as  a  fox  —  you  were  much  honour 
ed  for  that  exploit." 

"  No  ole  sore  in  dat,  um  ?"  cried  Nick,  in  a  way  so  start 
ling  as  to  sicken  Mrs.  Willoughby  to  the  heart.  "  No  call 
Nick  dog,  dat  ni^ht.  He  all  warrior,  den  —  all  face  ;  no 


"  I  have  said  you  were  honoured  for  your  conduct,  Nick, 
and  paid  for  it.  Now,  let  me  know  what  has  brought  you 
here  to-night,  and  whence  you  come." 

There  was  another  pause.  Gradually,  the  countenance 
of  the  Indian  became  less  and  less  fierce,  until  it  lost  its  ex 
pression  of  malignant  resentment  in  one  in  which  human 
emotions  of  a  kinder  nature  predominated. 

"  Squaw  good,"  he  said,  even  gently,  waving  his  hand 
towards  Mrs.  Willoughby  —  "  Got  son;  love  him  like  little 
baby.  Nick  come  six,  two  time  before,  runner  from  her 
son." 

"  My  son,  Wyandotte  !"  exclaimed  the  mother  —  "  Bring 
you  any  tidings,  now,  from  my  boy?" 

"  No  bring  tidin'  —  too  heavy;  Indian  don't  love  to  carry 
load  —  bring  letter" 

The  cry  from  the  three  females  was  now  common,  each 
holding  out  her  hand,  with  an  involuntary  impulse,  to  re 
ceive  the  note.  Nick  drew  the  missive  from  a  fold  of  his 
garment,  and  placed  it  in  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Willoughby,  with 
a  quiet  grace  that  a  courtier  might  have  wished  to  equal,  in 
vain. 


THE      HI    T  T  '•  I>      K  X  O  I,  L  .  f)3 

The  note  was  short,  and  had  been  writlm  in  pencil,  on  a 
Iraf  torn  from  some  book  of  coane  paper.  The  handwriting 
however,  was  at  once  nro-nix-d  as  Robert  WilloughbyX 
though  there  was  no  address,  nor  any  signature.  The  paper 
merely  contained  the  following — 

"  Trust  to  your  defences,  and  to  nothing  else.  This  party 
.my  white  men  in  it,  disguised  as  Indians.  1  am  sus 
pected,  if  not  known.  You  will  be  tampered  with,  but  the 
wisest  course  is  to  be  firm.  If  Nick  is  honest,  he  can  tell 
you  more;  if  false,  this  note  will  be  shown,  even  though  it 
be  delivered.  Secure  the  inner  gates,  and  depend  more  on 
the  house  itself,  than  on  the  palisades.  Fear  nothing  for 
me — my  life  can  be  in  no  danger." 

This  note  was  read  by  each,  in  succession,  Maud  turning 
aside  to  conceal  the  tears  that  iell  fasten  the  paj>er,  as  she  pe 
rused  it.  She  read  it  last,  and  was  enabled  to  retain  it ;  and 
pnvious  to  her  heart  was  the  boon,  at  such  a  moment,  when 
nearly  every  sensation  of  her  being  centred  in  intense  feel 
ing  in  behalf  of  the  captiv. 

"  We  are  told  to  inquire  the  particulars  of  you,  Nick," 
observed  the  captain ;  "  I  hope  you  will  tell  us  nothing  but 
truth.  A  lie  is  so  unworthy  a  warrior's  mouth!" 

••  Nick  didn't  lie  'bout  beaver  dam  !  Cap'in  no  find  him 
good,  as  Indian  say  ?" 

"  In  that  you  dealt  honestly,  and  I  give  you  credit  for  it. 
Has  any  one  seen  this  letter  but  ourselves,  yourself,  and  the 
person  who  wrote  it  ?" 

"What  for  ask?  If  Nick  say  no,  cap'in  t'ink  he  lie. 
Even  fox  tell  trut'  some  time ;  why  not  Injin  ?  Nick  say 
NO." 

"  Where  did  you  leave  my  son,  and  when  ?  —  Where  is 
the  party  of  red-skins  at  this  moment?" 

"  Alf  pale-face  in  hurry!  Ask  ten,  one,  four  question, 
altogeder.  Well;  answer  him  so.  Down  here,  at  mill; 
down  dere,  at  mill ;  half  an  hour,  six,  two,  ten  o'clock." 

"  I  understand  you  to  say  that  major  Willoughby  was  at 
the  mill  when  you  saw  him  "last,  and  that  this  was  only  half 
an  hour  since?" 

The  Tuscarora  nodded  his  head  in  nsscnt,  but  made  no 
other  reply.  Even  as  he  did  this,  his  keen  eyes  rolled  over 
the  pallid  faces  of  the  females  in  a  way  to  awaken  the  cap- 
5* 


54  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

tain's  distrust,  and  he  resumed  his  questions  in  a  tone  that 
partook  more  of  the  military  severity  of  his  ancient  habits 
than  of  the  gentler  manner  he  had  been  accustomed  to  use 
of  late  years. 

"  You  know  me,  Nick,"  he  said  sternly,  "  and  ought  to 
dread  my  displeasure." 

"  What  cap'in  mean,  now  ?"  demanded  the  Indian, 
quietly. 

"  That  the  same  whip  is  in  this  fort  that  I  always  kept  in 
the  other,  in  which  you  knew  me  to  dwell ;  nor  have  I  for 
gotten  how  to  use  it." 

The  Tuscarora  gazed  at  the  captain  with  a  very  puzzling 
expression,  though,  in  the  main,  his  countenance  appeared 
to  be  ironical  rather  than  fierce. 

"  What  for,  talk  of  whip,  now?"  he  said.  "  Even  Yen- 
geese  gen'ral  hide  whip,  when  he  see  enemy.  Soldier  can't 
fight  when  back  sore.  When  battle  near,  den  all  good 
friend  ;  when  battle  over,  den  flog,  flog,  flog.  Why  talk 
so  ? — Cap'in  nebber  strike  Wyandottc." 

"  Your  memory  must  be  short,  to  say  this  !  I  thought  an 
Indian  kept  a  better  record  of  what  passed." 

"  No  man  dare  strike  Wyandotte  !"  exclaimed  the  In 
dian,  with  energy.  "  No  man  —  pale-face  or  red-skin,  can 
give  blow  on  back  of  Wyandotte,  and  see  sun  set !" 

"  Well  —  well  —  Nick  ;  we  will  not  dispute  on  this  point, 
but  let  bye-gones  be  bye-gones.  What  has  happened,  has 
happened,  and  I  hope  will  never  occur  again." 

"  Dat  happen  to  Nick  —  Sassy  Nick  —  poor,  drunken 
Nick  —  to  Wyandotte,  nebber!" 

"  I  believe  I  begin  to  understand  you,  now,  Tuscarora, 
and  am  glad  I  have  a  chief  and  a  warrior  in  my  house,  in 
stead  of  a  poor  miserable  outcast.  Shall  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  filling  you  a  glass  in  honour  of  our  old  campaigns?" 

"  Nick  alway  dry — Wyandotte  know  no  thirst.  Nick, 
beggar — ask  for  rum — pray  for  rum — fink  of  rum,  talk  of 
rum,  laugh  for  rum,  cry  for  rum.  Wyandotte  don't  know 
rum,  when  he  see  him.  Wyandotte  beg  not'in' ;  no,  not  his 
scalp." 

"  All  this  sounds  well,  and  I  am  both  willing  and  glad, 
chief,  to  receive  you  in  the  character  in  which  you  give  me 
to  understand  you  have  now  come.  A  warrior  of  Wyan- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  55 

dotte's  high  name  is  too  proud  to  carry  a  forked  tongue  in 
his  mouth,  and  I  shall  hear  nothing  but  truth.  Tell  me, 
(hen,  all  you  know  about  this  party  at  the  mill ;  what  has 
brought  it  here,  how  you  came  to  meet  my  son,  and  what 
will  be  the  next  step  of  his  captors.  Answer  the  questions 
in  the  order  in  which  I  put  them." 

"  Wyandotte  not  newspaper  to  tell  ebbery  t'ing  at  once. 
Let  cap'in  talk  like  one  chief  speaking  to  anoder." 

"  Then,  tell  me  first,  what  you  know  of  this  party  at  tha 
mill.  Are  there  many  pale-faces  in  it?" 

"  Put  'em  in  the  river,"  answered  the  Indian,  senten- 
tiously  ;  "  water  tell  the  trut'." 

"  You  think  that  there  are  many  among  them  that  would 
wash  white?" 

"  Wyandotte  know  so.  When  did  red  warriors  ever  travel 
on  their  path  like  hogs  in  drove  ?  One  red-man  there,  as 
Great  Spirit  make  him ;  by  his  side  two  red-men  as  paint 
make  'em.  This  soon  told  on  trail." 

"  You  struck  their  trail,  then,  and  joined  their  company, 
in  that  manner?" 

Another  nod  indicated  the  assent  of  the  Indian.  Perceiving 
that  the  Tuscarora  did  not  intend  to  speak,  the  captain  con 
tinued  his  interrogatories. 

"And  how  did  the  trail  betray  this  secret,  chief?"  ho 
asked. 

"  Toe  turn  out — step  too  short — trail  too  broad — trail  too 
plain — march  too  short." 

"  You  must  have  followed  them  some  distance,  Wyan 
dotte,  to  learn  all  this?" 

"  Follow  from  Mohawk — join  'em  at  mill.  Tuscarora 
don't  like  too  much  travel  with  Mohawk." 

"  But,  according  to  your  account,  there  cannot  be  a  great 
many  red-skins  in  the  party,  if  the  white  men  so  much  out 
number  them." 

Nick,  now,  raised  his  ri^ht  hand,  showing  all  the  fingers 
and  the  thumb,  at  each  exhibition,  four  several  times.  Then 
he  raised  it  once,  showing  only  the  fore-finger  and  thumb. 

"This  makes  twenty-two,  Nick  —  Do  you  include  your 
self  in  the  number?" 

"  Wyandotte,  a  Tuscarora — he  count  Mohawks" 

"  True — Are  there  any  other  red-men  among  them  7" 


56  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Oneida,  so" — holding  up  four  fingers  only.  After  which 
he  held  up  a  single  finger,  adding — "  Onondaga,  so." 

"  Twenty-two  Mohawks,  four  Oneidas,  and  a  single  Onon 
daga,  make  twenty-seven  in  all.  To  these,  how  many  whites 
am  I  to  add  ? — You  counted  them,  also  1" 

The  Indian  now  showed  both  hands,  with  all  the  fingers 
extended,  repeating  the  gestures  four  times ;  then  he  showed 
one  hand  entire,  and  two  fingers  on  the  other. 

"  Forty-seven.  Add  these  to  the  red- skins,  and  we  get 
seventy-four  for  the  total.  I  had  supposed  them  rather 
stronger  than  this,  Wyandotte  ?" 

"No  stronger  —  no  weaker  —  just  so.  Good  many  ole 
womans,  too,  among  pale-faces." 

"Old  women!  —  You  are  not  speaking  literally',  Nick? 
All  that  I  have  seen  appear  to  be  men." 

"  Got  beard  ;  but  ole  woman,  too.  Talk — talk — talk  ; — 
do  not'in'.  Dat  what  Injin  call  ole  woman.  Party,  poor 
party ;  cap'in  beat  'em,  if  he  fight  like  ole  time." 

"  Well,  this  is  encouraging,  Wilhelmina,  and  Nick  seems 
to  be  dealing  fairly  with  us." 

"  Now,  inquire  more  about  Robert,  Hugh" — said  the  wife, 
in  whose  maternal  heart  her  children  were  always  upper 
most. 

"  You  hear,  Nick ;  my  wife  is  desirous  of  learning  some 
thing  about  her  son,  next." 

During  the  preceding  dialogue,  there  had  been  something 
equivocal  in  the  expression  of  the  Indian's  face.  Every 
word  he  uttered  about  the  party,  its  numbers,  and  his  own 
manner  of  falling  in  with  it,  was  true,  and  his  countenance 
indicated  that  he  was  dealing  fairly.  Still,  the  captain  fan 
cied  that  he  could  detect  a  covert  fierceness  in  his  eye  and 
air,  and  he  felt  uneasiness  even  while  he  yielded  him  cre 
dence.  As  soon  as  Mrs.  Willoughby,  however,  interposed, 
the  gleam  of  ferocity  that  passed  so  naturally  and  readily 
athwart  the  swarthy  features  of  the  savage,  melted  into  a 
look  of  gentleness,  and  there  were  moments  when  it  might 
be  almost  termed  softness. 

"  Good  to  have  moder" — said  Nick,  kindly.  "Wyandotte 
got  no  squaw — wife  dead,  moder  dead,  sister  dead — all  gone 
to  land  of  spirits — by'm  bye,  chief  follow.  No  one  throw 
stone  on  his  grave !  Been  on  death-path  long  ago,  but 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  57 

cap'in's  squaw  say  *  stop,  Nick  ;  little  too  soon,  now ;  take 
medicine,  and  get  well.'  Squaw  made  to  do  good.  Chief 
ulway  like  'e  squaw,  when  his  mint!  not  wild  with  war." 

"  And  your  mind,  Wyandutte,  is  not  wild  with  war,  now," 
answered*  Mrs.  Willotighby,  earnestly.  "You  will  help  a 
mother,  then,  to  get  her  son  out  of  the  hands  of  mercile.ss 
enemies  ?" 

"  Why  you  t'ink  merciless?  Because  pale-face  dress  like 
Injin,  and  try  to  cheat?" 

"  That  may  be  one  reason ;  but  I  fear  there  are  many 
others.  Tell  me,  Wyandotle,  how  came  you  to  discover 
that  Robert  was  a  prisoner,  and  by  what  means  did  he  con 
trive  to  give  you  his  let: 

The  Indian  assumed  a  look  of  pride,  a  little  blended  with 
hauteur;  for  he  felt  that  he  was  manifesting  the  superiority 
of  a  red-man  over  the  pale-face,  as  he  related  the  means 
through  which  he  had  made  his  discoveries. 

"  Read  book  on  ground,"  Nick  answered  gravely.  "Two 
book  alway  open  before  chief;  one  in  sky,  t'other  on  ground. 
Book  in  sky,  tell  weather — snow,  rain,  wind,  thunder, 
lightning,  war — hook  on  ground,  tell  what  happen." 

*  And  what  had  this  book  on  the  ground  to  do  with  my 
son,  Wyandolte  ?" 

"  Tcfl  all  about  him.    Major's  trail  first  seen  at  mill.    No 
moccasin — much  boot.     Soldier  boot  like  letter — say 
deal,  in  few  word.     First  t'ink  it  cap'in ;  but  it  too  short. 
Den  know  it  Major." 

"  This  sounds  very  well,  Nick,"  interrupted  the  captain, 
"  though  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  say  it  is  going  a  little  too 
*far.  It  seems  impossible  that  you  should  know  that  the 
print  of  the  foot  was  that  of  my  son.  How  could  you  be 
certain  of  this?" 

"  How  could,  eh?  Who  follow  trail  from  houso,  hero,  to 
Hudson  river  ?  T'ink  Nick  blind,  and  can't  see?  Tusrarora 
read  his  book  well  as  pale-face  read  bible."  Hero  Nick 
looked  round  him  a  moment,  raised  his  foro-fingor,  dropped 
his  voice,  and  added  earnestly — "  see  him  at  Bunker  Hill  — 
know  him  among  ten,  six,  two  t'ousand  warrior.  Know  dal 
foot,  if  meet  him  in  Happy  Hunting  Ground." 

"  And  why  my  son's  foot,  in  particular  ?  The  boot  is  often 
changed,  can  never  be  exactly  like  its  predecessor,  and  one 


58  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

boot  is  so  much  like  another,  that  to  me  the  thing  seems 
impossible.  This  account  of  the  boot,  Nick,  makes  me 
distrust  your  whole  story." 

"  What  distrust?"  demanded  the  Indian  like  lightning. 

"It  means  doubt,  uncertainty — distrust." 

"Don't  believe,  hal" 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,  substantially.  Don't  more  than  half  be 
lieve,  perhaps,  would  be  nearer  to  the  mark." 

"  Why,  ole  soldier  alway  distrust ;  squaw  nebber?  Ask 
moder — ha  ! — you  t'ink  Nick  don't  know  son's  trail — hand 
some  trail,  like  young  chiefs  ?" 

"  I  can  readily  believe  Nick  might  recognise  Bob's  trail, 
Hugh" — expostulated  Mrs.  Willoughby.  "He  has  a  foot  in 
a  thousand — you  may  remember  how  every  one  was  accus 
tomed  to  speak  of  his  beautiful  foot,  even  when  he  was  a 
boy.  As  a  man,  I  think  it  still  more  remarkable." 

"  Ay,  go  on,  Nick,  in  this  way,  and  my  wife  will  believe 
all  you  say.  There  is  no  distrust  in  a  mother's  partiality, 
certainly.  You  are  an  old  courtier,  and  would  make  your 
way  at  St.  James's." 

"  Major  nebber  tell  about  foot  ?"  asked  Nick,  earnestly. 

"  I  remember  nothing ;  and  had  he  spoken  of  any  such 
thing,  I  must  have  heard  it.  But,  never  mind  the  story, 
now  ;  you  saw  the  foot-print,  and  knew  it  for  my  son's.  Did 
you  ask  to  be  admitted  to  his  prison  ?  or  was  your  inter 
course  secret?" 

"  Wyandotte  too  wise  to  act  like  squaw,  or  boy.     See 
him,  widout  look.     Talk,  widout  speak — hear,  widout  ear. 
Major  write  letter,  Nick  take  him.     All  done  by  eye  and 
hand  ;  not'in'  done  by  tongue,  or  at  Council  Fire.   Mohawk- 
blind  like  owl !" 

"  May  I  believe  you,  Tuscarora ;  or,  incited  by  demons, 
do  you  come  to  deceive  me  ?" 

"  Ole  warrior  look  two  time  before  he  go;  t'ink  ten  time 
before  he  say,  yes.  All  good.  Nick  no  affronted.  Do  so 
himself,  and  t'ink  it  right.  Cap'in  may  believe  all  Nick 
say." 

"  Father  !"  cried  Maud,  with  simple  energy,  "  I  will  an 
swer  fo>-  the  Indian's  honesty.  He  has  guided  Robert  so 
often,  and  been  with  him  in  so  many  trying  scenes,  he  never 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  59 

can  have  the  heart  to  betray  him,  or  us.  Trust  him,  then  ; 
lie  may  be  of  infinite  sen 

Even  captain  Willoiighby,  little  disposed  as  he  was  to 
judge  Nick  favourably,  was  struck  with  the  glcirn  of  manly 
kindo  bol  ;KT»>S  the  dark  face  of  the  Indian,  as  he 

ga/fd  at  the  glowing  check  and  illuminated  countenance  of 
the  ard'-nl  ami  beautiful  girl. 

M  Nick  seems  disposed  to  make  a  truce  with  T/OW,  at  least, 
Maud,"  he  said,  smiling,  "and  I  shall  now  know  where  to 
look  for  a  mediator,  whenever  any  trouble  arises  between 
us." 

"  I  have  known  Wvandolte,  dear  sir,  from  childhood,  and 
he  has  ever  been  my  friend.  lie  promised  me,  in  particular, 
to  be  true  to  Bob,  and  I  am  happy  to  say  he  has  ever  kept 
his  word." 

This  was  telling  but  half  the  story.  Maud  had  made  the 
Indian  many  presents,  and  most  especially  had  she  attended 
to  his  wants,  when  it  was  known  he  was  to  be  the  major's 
guide,  the  year  previously,  on  his  return  to  Boston.  Nick 
had  known  her  real  father,  and  was  present  at  his  death. 
1 1»%  was  consequently  acquainted  with  her  actual  position  in 
the  family  of  the  Hutted  Knoll;  and,  what  was  of  far  more 
consequence  in  present  emergencies,  he  had  fathomed  the 
depths  of  her  heart,  in  a  way  our  heroine  could  hardly  be 
said  to  have  done  herself.  Off  her  guard  with  such  a  being, 
Maud's  solicitude,  however,  had  betrayed  her,  and  the  pene 
trating  Tuscarora  had  discerned  that  which  had  escaped  the 
observation  of  father,  and  mother,  and  sister.  Had  Nick 
been  a  pale-face,  of  the  class  of  those  with  whom  he  usually 
associated,  his  discovery  would  have  gone  through  the  set 
tlement,  with  scoffincs  and  exaggerations ;  but  this  forest 
gentleman,  for  such  was  Wyandotte,  in  spite  of  his  di 'gra 
dation  and  numerous  failings,  had  too  much  consideration 
to  make  a  woman's  affections  the  subject  of  his  coarseness 
and  nif-rrimrnt.  The  secrets  of  Maud  would  not  have  been 
more  sacred  with  her  own  brother,  had  such  a  relative 
existed  to  become  her  confidant,  than  it  was  with  Saucy 
Nick. 

"  Nick  gal's  friend,"  observed  the  Indian,  quietly  ;  "  dat 
enough ;  what  Nick  say,  Nick  mean.  What  Nick  mean, 


60  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

he  do.  Come,  cap'in ;  time  to  quit  squaw,  and  talk  about 
war." 

At  this  hint,  which  was  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood, 
captain  Willoughby  bade  the  Indian  withdraw  to  the  court, 
promising  to  follow  him,  as  soon  as  he  could  hold  a  short 
conference  with  Joyce,  who  was  now  summoned  to  the 
council.  The  subject  of  discussion  was  the  manner  in  which 
the  Tuscarora  had  passed  the  stockade,  and  the  probability 
of  his  being  true.  The  serjeant  was  disposed  to  distrust  all 
red-men,  and  he  advised  putting  Nick  under  arrest,  and  to 
keep  him  in  durance,  until  the  return  of  light,  at  least. 

'*  I  might  almost  say,  your  honour,  that  such  are  orders, 
sir.  The  advice  to  soldiers  carrying  on  war  with  savages, 
tells  us  that  the  best  course  is  to  pay  off  treachery  with 
treachery ;  and  treachery  is  a  red-skin's  manual  exercise. 
There  is  O'Hearn  will  make  a  capital  sentinel,  for  the  fellow 
is  as  true  as  the  best  steel  in  the  army.  Mr.  Woods'  room 
is  empty,  and  it  is  so  far  out  of  the  way  that  nothing  will  be 
easier  than  to  keep  the  savage  snug  enough.  Besides,  by 
a  little  management,  he  might  fancy  we  were  doing  him 
honour  all  the  while." 

"  We  will  see,  serjeant,"  answered  the  captain.  "  It  has 
a  bad  appearance,  and  yet  it  may  be  the  wisest  thing  we  can 
do.  Let  us  first  go  the  rounds,  taking  Nick  with  us  for 
safety,  and  determine  afterwards." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  61 


CHAPTER   V. 

**  His  hand  was  stay'd — he  knew  not  why; 
'Twas  a  presence  breathed  around — 
A  pleading-  from  the  deep-blue  sky, 
And  up  from  the  teeming-  ground. 
It  told  of  the  care  that  lavished  had  been 
In  sunshine  and  in  dew — 
Of  the  many  things  that  had  wrought  a  screen 
When  peril  round  it  grew." 

MRS.  SEBA  SMITH. 

THE  desertions  gave  not  only  the  captain,  but  his  great 
support  and  auxiliary,  the  serjeant,  the  gravest  apprehen 
sions.  A  disposition  of  that  nature  is  always  contagious, 
men  abandoning  a  failing  cause  much  as  rats  are  known  to 
quit  a  sinking  ship.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  surprise,  therefore, 
that  the  distrust  which  accompanied  the  unexpected  appear- 
awe  of  the  Tuscarora,  became  associated  with  this  tailing 
off  in  the  loyalty  of  the  garrison,  in  the  minds  of  the  two 
old  soldiers. 

"  I  do  think,  your  honour,"  said  Joyce,  as  they  entered 
the  court  together,  "  that  we  may  depend  on  O'FIearn,  and 
Jamie,  and  Strides.  The  latter,  as  a  matter  of  course,  being 
a  corporal,  or  serjeant  as  he  calls  himself;  and  the  two  first, 
as  men  who  have  no  ties  but  such  as  would  be  likely  to  keep 
them  true  to  this  family.  But  here  is  the  corporal  to  speak 
for  himself." 

As  this  was  said,  corporal  Strides,  as  the  serjeant  persist 
ed  in  terming  Joel,  on  the  ground  that  being  but  one  stop 
higher  himself,  the  overseer  could  justly  claim  no  rank  of 
greater  pretension,  approached  the  captain,  taking  care  to 
make  the  military  salute  which  Joyce  had  never  succeeded 
before  in  extracting  from  him,  notwithstanding  a  hundred 
admonitions  on  the  subject. 

"  This  is  a  distressing  affair,  captain  Willoughby,"  ob- 
sfTvod  Joel,  in  his  most  Jesuitical  manner ;  "  and  to  me  it  is 
altogether  onaccountable !  It  does  seem  to  me  ag'in  natur', 

VOL.  II.  — 6 


62  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

for  a  man  to  desart  his  own  household  and  hum'  (Joel  meant 
<  home')  in  the  hour  of  trial.  If  a  fellow-being  wunt  (Anglice 
'wont')  stand  by  his  wife  and  children,  he  can  hardly  be 
expected  to  do  any  of  his  duties." 

"  Quite  true,  Strides,"  answered  the  confiding  captain, 
"  though  these  deserters  are  not  altogether  as  bad  as  you 
represent,  since,  you  will  remember,  they  have  carried  their 
wives  and  children  with  them." 

"  I  believe  they  have,  sir — yes,  that  must  be  allowed  to 
be  true,  and  that  it  is,  which  to  me  "seems  the  most  extr'or'- 
nary.  The  very  men  that  a  person  would  calciiate  on  the 
most,  or  the  heads  of  families,  have  desarted,  while  them 
that  remain  behind  are  mostly  single !" 

"  If  we  single  men  have  no  wives  and  children  of  our 
own  to  fight  for,  Strides,"  observed  Joyce,  with  a  little  mili 
tary  stiffness,  "  we  have  the  wife  and  children  of  captain 
Willoughby ;  no  man  who  wishes  to  sell  his  life  dearly, 
need  look  for  a  better  motive." 

"  Thank  you,  serjeant,"  the  captain  said,  feelingly — "On 
you,  I  can  rely  as  on  myself.  So  long  as  I  have  you,  and 
Joel,  here,  and  Mike  and  the  blacks,  and  the  rest  of  the 
brave  fellows  who  have  stood  by  me  thus  far,  I  shall  not 
despair.  We  can  make  good  the  house  against  ten  times 
our  own  number.  But,  it  is  time  to  look  to  the  Indians." 

"  I  was  going  to  speak  to  the  captain  about  Nick,"  put  in 
Joel,  who  had  listened  to  the  eulogium  on  his  own  fidelity 
with  some  qualms  of  conscience.  "  I  can't  say  I  like  the 
manner  he  has  passed  between  the  two  parties ;  and  that 
fellow  has  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  owed  the  captain  a 
mortal  grudge ;  when  an  Injin  does  owe  a  grudge,  he  is 
pretty  sartain  to  pay  it,  in  full." 

"  This  has  passed  over  my  mind,  too,  I  will  confess,  Joel ; 
yet  Nick  and  I  have  been  on  reasonably  good  terms,  when 
one  comes  to  remember  his  character,  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  fact  that  I  have  commanded  a  frontier  garrison  on  the 
other.  If  I  have  had  occasion  to  flog  him  a  few  times,  I 
have  also  had  occasion  to  give  him  more  rum  than  has  done 
him  good,  with  now  and  then  a  dollar." 

u  There  I  think  the  captain  miscalcilates,"  observed  Joel, 
with  a  knowledge  of  human  nature  that  would  have  been 
creditable  to  him,  had  he  practised  on  it  himself.  "  No  man 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  63 

is  thankful  for  rum  when  the  craving  is  off,  sin'  he  knows 
he  has  Ixx'ii  taking  an  iniiny  into  iiis  stomach  ;  and  as  for 
the  money,  it  was  much  the  same  as  giving  the  liquor,  secin' 
that  it  went  for  liquor  as  soon  as  he  could  trot  down  to  the 
mill.  A  man  will  seek  his  rc\engi-  lor  rum,  as  soon  as  (i»r 
anything  else,  when  he  gets  to  feel  injuries  uppermost.  Be- 
I  s'pose  the  captain  knows  an  injury  will  be  remem 
bered  long  a'ter  a  favour  is  forgotten." 

"  This  may  be  true,  Strides,  and  certainly  I  shall  keep 
my  eyes  on  the  Indian.  Can  you  mention  any  particular 
act,  that  excites  your  suspicion  ?" 

"  Don't  the  captain  think  Nick  may  have  had  suthin'  to 
do  with  the  desartions  ? — A  dozen  men  would  scarce  desart 
all  at  once,  as  it  might  be,  onless  some  one  was  at  the  bot 
tom  of  it." 

This  was  true  enough,  certainly,  though  Joel  chose  to 
keep  out  of  view  all  his  own  machinations  and  arts  on  the 
subject.  The  captain  was  struck  by  the  suggestion,  and  he 
determined  to  put  his  first  intention  in  respect  to  Nick  in 
force  immediately.  Still,  it  was  necessary  to  proceed  with 
caution,  the  state  of  the  Hut  rendering  a  proper  watch  and 
a  suitable  prison  difficult  to  be  obtained.  These  circum 
stances  were  mentioned  to  the  overseer,  who  led  the  way  to 
the  part  of  the  buildings  occupied  by  his  own  family ;  and, 
throwing  open  the  doors,  ostentatiously  exhibited  Phrcbe 
and  her  children  in  their  customary  beds,  at  a  moment  when 
so  many  others  had  proved  recreant.  His  professed  object 
was  to  offer  a  small  closet  in  his  own  rooms  as  a  prison  for 
Nick,  remarking  he  must  be  an  ingenious  savage  indeed,  if 
he  could  escape  the  vigilance  of  as  many  watchful  eyes  as 
would  then  be  on  him. 

"  I  Ix^lieve  you,  Strides,"  said  the  captain,  smiling  as  he 
walked  away  from  the  place;  "  if  he  can  escape  Phcelx;  and 
Inr  children,  the  fellow  must  be  made  of  quicksilver.  Still, 
1  have  a  better  prison  in  view.  I  am  glad  to  see  this  proof, 
however,  of  your  own  fidelity,  by  finding  all  your  family  in 
their  beds ;  for  those  are  not  wanting  who  would  have  me 
suspect  even  you" 

"  Me  ! — Well,  if  the  captain  can't  count  on  his  own  over 
seer,  I  should  like  to  ask  such  persons  on  whom  he  can 
count  ?  Madam  Willoughby  and  the  young  ladies  isn't  more 


64  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

likely  to  remain  true  than  I  am,  myself,  I  should  think. 
What  in  reason,  or  natur',  or  all  lawful  objects,  could  make 

55 

Joel  was  about  to  run  into  that  excess  of  vindication  that 
is  a  little  apt  to  mark  guilt ;  but,  the  captain  cut  him  short, 
by  telling  him  it  was  unnecessary,  recommending  vigilance, 
and  walking  away  in  search  of  Nick. 

The  Indian  was  found  standing  beneath  the  arch  of  the 
gateway,  upright,  motionless,  and  patient.  A  lantern  was 
kept  burning  here,  the  place  being  used  as  a  sort  of  guard 
house  ;  and,  by  its  light,  it  was  easy  to  perceive  the  state 
of  the  still  unhung  leaf  of  the  passage.  This  leaf,  however, 
was  propped  in  its  place,  by  strong  timbers ;  and,  on  the 
whole,  many  persons  would  think  it  the  most  secure  half 
of  the  gate.  Captain  Willoughby  observed  that  the  Indian 
was  studying  this  arrangement  when  he  entered  the  place 
himself.  The  circumstance  caused  him  uneasiness,  and 
quickened  his  determination  to  secure  the  Indian. 

"  Well,  Nick,"  he  said,  concealing  his  intention  under  an 
appearance  of  indifference,  "  you  see  our  gates  are  well 
fastened,  and  steady  hands  and  quick  eyes  will  do  the  rest. 
It  is  getting  late,  and  I  wish  to  have  you  comfortably  lodged 
before  I  lie  down  myself.  Follow  me,  and  I  will  show  you 
to  a  place  where  you  will  be  at  your  ease." 

The  Tuscarora  understood  the  captain's  object  the  instant 
he  spoke  of  giving  him  comfortable  lodgings,  a  bed  being  a 
thing  that  was  virtually  unknown  to  his  habits.  But,  he 
raised  no  objections,  quietly  treading  in  the  other's  footsteps, 
until  both  were  in  the  bed-room  of  the  absent  Mr.  Woods. 
The  apartments  of  the  chaplain  were  above  the  library,  and, 
being  in  the  part  of  the  house  that  was  fortified  by  the  cliff, 
they  had  dormer  windows  that  looked  toward  the  forest. 
The  height  of  these  windows  the  captain  thought  would  be 
a  sufficient  security  against  flight ;  and  by  setting  Mike  and 
one  of  the  Plinys  on  the  look-out,  to  relieve  each  other  at 
intervals  of  four  hours,  he  thought  the  Tuscarora  might  bo 
kept  until  the  return  of  light.  The  hour  when  he  most  ap 
prehended  danger  was  that  which  just  precedes  the  day, 
sleep  then  pressing  the  heaviest  on  the  sentinel's  eye-lids, 
and  rest  having  refreshed  the  assailants. 

"  Here,  Wyandotte,  I  intend  you  shall  pass  the  night," 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  65 

said  the  captain,  assuming  as  much  courtesy  of  mariner  as 
if  he  wore  doing  the  honours  of  his  house  to  an  invited  and 
honoured  guest.  "  I  know  you  despise  a  bed,  hut  there  are 
hiankrts,  anil  by  spreading  them  on  the  floor,  you  can  make 
your  o\\  n  arrai.. 

Nick  mad**  a  ii<  -sture  of  assent,  looking  cautiously  around 
him,  carefully  avoiding  every  appearance  of  curiosity  at  the 
same  time,  more  in  pride  of  character,  however,  than  in 
cunning.  Nevertheless,  he  took  in  the  history  of  the  locality 
at  a  lilan 

"ft  is  well,"  he  said;  "a  Tuscarora  chief  no  t'ink  of 
sleep.  Sleep  come  standing,  walking;  where  he  will,  ichcn 
he  will.  Dog  eats,  den  lie  down  to  sleep  ;  warrior  always 
ready.  Good  bye,  cap'in — to-morrow  see  him  ag'in." 

"  Good  night,  Nick.  I  have  ordered  your  old  friend 
Mike,  the  Irishman,  to  come  and  sit  in  your  room,  lest  you 
might  want  something  in  the  night.  You  are  good  friends 
with  Mike,  I  believe;  I  chose  him  on  that  account." 

The  Indian  understood  this,  too;  but  not  an  angry  gleam, 
no  smile,  nor  any  other  sign,  betrayed  his  consciousness  of 
the  captain's  motives. 

"  Mike  good"  he  answered,  with  emphasis.  "  Long 
tongue — short  t'ink.  Say  much  ;  mean  little.  Heart  sound, 
like  hard  oak — mind,  like  spunk — burn  quick,  no  too  much 
strong." 

This  sententious  and  accurate  delineation  of  the  county 
Leitrim-man's  characteristics  induced  a  smile  in  the  captain; 
but,  O'Hearn  entering  at  the  moment,  and  possessing  his 
entire  confidence,  he  saw  no  use  in  replying.  In  another 
minute  the  two  worthies  were  left  in  possession  of  the  bed 
room,  Michael  having  received  a  most  solemn  injunction  not 
to  be  tempted  to  drink. 

It  was  now  so  late,  the  captain  determined  to  let  the  regu 
lar  watches  of  the  night  take  their  course.  He  held  a  short 
consultation  with  Joyce,  who  took  the  first  ward,  and  then 
threw  himself  on  a  mattrass,  in  his  clothes,  his  affectionate 
wife  having  done  the  same  thing,  by  the  side  of  her  daugh- 
t>  is  and  grandson  in  an  adjoining  room.  In  a  short  time, 
the  sounds  of  footsteps  ceased  in  the  Hut ;  and,  one  unac 
quainted  with  the  real  state  of  the  household,  might  have 
6* 


66  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

fancied  -that  the  peace  and  security  of  one  of  its  ancient 
midnights  were  reigning  about  the  Knoll. 

It  was  just  two  in  the  morning,  when  the  serjeant  tapped 
lightly  at  the  door  of  his  commanding  officer's  room.  The 
touch  was  sufficient  to  bring  the  captain  to  his  feet,  and  he 
instantly  demanded  the  news. 

"  Nothing  but  sentry-go,  your  honour,"  replied  Joyce. 
"  I  am  as  fresh  as  a  regiment  that  is  just  marching  out  of 
barracks,  and  can  easily  stand  the  guard  till  day-light. 
Still,  as  it  was  orders  to  call  your  honour  at  two,  I  could  do 
no  less,  you  know,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  serjeant — I  will  just  wash  my  eyes,  and  be 
with  you  in  a  minute.  How  has  the  night  gone?" 

"  Famously  quiet,  sir.  Not  even  an  owl  to  trouble  it. 
The  sentinels  have  kept  their  eyes  wide  open,  dread  of  the 
scalping-knife  being  a  good  wakener,  and  no  sign  of  any 
alarm  has  been  seen.  I  will  wait  for  your  honour,  in  the 
court,  the  moment  of  relieving  guard  being  often  chosen  by 
a  cunning  enemy  for  the  assault." 

"  Yes,"  sputtered  the  captain,  his  face  just  emerging  from 
the  water — "  if  he  happen  to  know  when  that  is." 

In  another  minute,  the  two  old  soldiers  were  together  in 
the  court,  waiting  the  return  of  Jamie  Allen  with  his  report, 
the  mason  having  been  sent  round  to  the  beds  of  the  fresh 
men  to  call  the  guard.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before 
the  old  man  was  seen  hastening  towards  the  spot  where 
Joyce  had  bid  him  come. 

"  The  Lord  ha'  maircy  on  us,  and  on  a'  wretched  sin 
ners  !"  exclaimed  Jamie,  as  soon  as  near  enough  to  be 
heard  without  raising  his  voice  on  too  high  a  key — "  there 
are  just  the  beds  of  the  three  Connecticut  lads  that  were  to 
come  into  the  laird's  guard,  as  empty  as  a  robin's  nest  fra' 
which  the  yang  haj  flown  !" 

"Do  you  mean,  Jamie,  that  the  boys  have  deserted?" 

"  It 's  just  that ;  and  no  need  of  ca'ing  it  by  anither  name. 
The  Hoose  o'  Hanover  wad  seem  to  have  put  the  deil  in  a' 
the  lads,  women  and  children  included,  and  to  have  raised 
up  a  spirit  o'  disaffection,  that  is  fast  leaving  us  to  carry  on 
this  terrible  warfare  with  our  ain  hearts  and  bodies." 

"  With  your  honour's  permission,"  said  the  serjeant,  "  I 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  07 

would  ask  corporal  Allen  if  the  deserters  have  gone  off  with 
thrir  arms  and  uivoiitrrnn-ir 

**Airms1  Ay,  and  legs,  and  a'  belonging  to 'em,  w'th 
mair  that  is  the  lawfu'  property  of  the  laird.  Not  so  much 
as  a  flint  is  left  he-hind." 

"Then  we  may  count  on  seeing  all  the  fellows  in  tho 
enemy's  ranks,"  the  scrjoant  quietly  remarked,  helping  him- 
self  to  the  tobacco  from -which  he  had  refrained  throughout 
the  previous  hours  of  the  night,  Joyce  being  too  much  of  a 
martinet  to  smoke  or  chew  on  duty.  "  It 's  up-hill  work, 
your  honour,  when  every  deserter  counts  two,  in  this  man 
ner.  The  civil  wars,  however,  are  remarkable  for  this  sort 
of  wheeling,  and  facing  to  the  right-about ;  the  same  man 
often  changing  his  colours  two  or  three  times  in  a  cam 
paign." 

Captain  Wilioughby  received  the  news  of  this  addition  to 
his  ill  lurk  with  an  air  of  military  stoicism,  though  he  felt, 
in  reality,  more  like  a  father  and  a  husband  on  the  occasion 
than  like  a  hero.  Accustomed  to  self-command,  he  suc 
ceeded  in  concealing  the  extent  of  his  uneasiness,  while  he 
immediately  set  about  inquiring  into  the  extent  of  the  evil. 

"  Joel  is  to  join  my  watch,"  he  said,  "  and  he  may  throw 
some  light  on  this  affair.  Let  us  call  him,  at  once,  for  a 
few  minutes  may  prove  of  importance." 

Even  while  speaking,  the  captain  crossed  the  court,  ac 
companied  by  the  serjcant  and  mason  ;  and,  ceremony  being 
little  attended  to  on  such  occasions,  they  all  entered  the 
quarters  of  Strides,  in  a  body.  The  place  was  empty ! 
Man,  woman,  and  children  had  abandoned  the  spot,  seem 
ingly  in  a  body  ;  and  this,  too,  far  from  empty-handed.  The 
manner  in  which  the  room  had  br-rn  stripped,  indrvd. 
the  first  fact  which  induced  the  captain  to  believe  that  a  man 
so  much  and  so  long  trusted  would  desert  him  in  a  strait  so 
serious.  There  could  be  no  mistake ;  and,  for  a  moment, 
the  husband  and  father  felt  such  a  sinking  of  the  heart  as 
would  be  apt  to  follow  the  sudden  conviction  that  his  enemies 
must  prevail. 

"Let  us  look  further,  Joyce,"  he  said,  "and  ascertain 
the  extent  of  the  evil  at  once." 

"  This  is  a  very  bad  example,  your  honour,  that  corporal 
Strides  has  set  the  men,  and  we  may  expect  to  hear  of  more 


68  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

desertions.  A  non-commissioned  officer  should  have  had 
too  much  pride  for  this !  I  have  always  remarked,  sir,  in 
the  army,  that  when  a  non-commissioned  officer  left  his 
colours,  he  was  pretty  certain  to  carry  off  a  platoon  with 
him." 

The  search  justified  this  opinion  of  the  serjeant.  A  com 
plete  examination  of  the  quarters  of  all  the  men  having  been 
made,  it  was  ascertained  tha-t  every  white  man  in  the  Hut, 
the  serjeant,  Jamie  Allen,  and  a  young  New  England 
labourer  of  the  name  of  Blodget  excepted,  had  abandoned 
the  place.  Every  man  had  carried  off  with  him  his  arms 
and  ammunition,  leaving  the  rooms  as  naked  of  defence  as 
they  had  been  before  they  were  occupied.  Women  and 
children,  too,  were  all  gone,  proving  that  the  flights  had 
been  made  deliberately,  and  with  concert.  This  left  the 
Hut  to  be  defended  by  its  owner,  the  serjeant,  the  two  Plinys 
and  a  young  descendant  of  the  same  colour,  Jamie  Allen, 
Blodget  and  Mike,  who  had  not  yet  been  relieved  from  his 
ward  over  the  Indian ;  eight  men  in  all,  who  might  possibly 
receive  some  assistance  from  the  four  black  females  in  the 
kitchen. 

The  captain  examined  this  small  array  of  force,  every 
man  but  Mike  being  up  and  in  the  line,  with  a  saddened 
countenance ;  for  he  remembered  what  a  different  appear 
ance  it  made  only  the  previous  day,  when  he  had  his  gallant 
son  too,  with  him,  a  host  in  himself.  It  added  mortification 
to  regret,  also,  when  he  remembered  that  this  great  loss  had 
been  made  without  a  single  blow  having  been  struck  in  de 
fence  of  his  precious  family,  and  his  lawful  rights. 

"  We  must  close  the  gate  of  the  court,  and  bar  it  at  once, 
Joyce,"  the  captain  said,  as  soon  as  fully  apprised  of  the 
true  state  of  his  force.  "  It  will  be  quite  sufficient  if  we 
make  good  the  house,  with  this  handful  of  men ;  giving  up 
all  hope  of  doing  anything  with  the  stockade.  It  is  the 
facility  offered  by  the  open  gateway  that  has  led  to  all  this 
mischief." 

"  I  don't  know,  your  honour.  When  desertion  once  fairly 
gets  into  a  man's  mind,  it's  wonderful  the  means  he  will 
find  to  bring  about  his  wishes.  Corporal  Strides,  no  doubt, 
has  passed  his  family  and  his  kit  through  both  gates ;  for, 
being  in  authority,  our  people  were  hardly  disciplined  enough 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  CD 

to  understand  the  ditierence  between  a  non-commissioaed 
ollicer  on  guard  and  one  off  guard ;  but,  there  were  a  hun 
dred  ways  to  mischief,  even  had  there  been  no  gate.  Jamie, 
take  one  of  the  blacks,  and  bar  the  inner  gate.  What  id 
your  honour's  pleasure  i, 

"  I  wish  my  mind  were  at  ease  on  the  subject  of  the  Tus- 
carora.     With  Nick's  assistance  as  a  runner  and  spy,  and 
.even  as  a  sharp-shooter,  we  should  be  vastly  stronger.    Seo 
to  the  gate  yourself,  scrjeant,  then  follow  me  to  Mr.  Woods' 
room." 

This  was  done,  the  captain  waiting  for  his  companion  on 
the  threshold  of  the  outer  door.  Ascending  the  narrow  stairs, 
they  were  soon  on  the  floor  above,  and  were  happy  to  find 
the  door  of  the  Tuscarora's  prison  fastened  without,  as  they 
had  left  it ;  this  precaution  having  been  taken  as  a  salutary 
assistance  to  O'l  MMrh'fl  sagacity.  Undoing  these  fastenings, 
the  serjeant  stepped  aside  to  allow  his  superior  to  precede 
him,  as  became  their  respective  stations.  The  captain  ad 
vanced,  holding  the  lantern  before  him,  and  found  an  empty 
room.  Both  Nick  and  Mike  were  gone,  though  it  was  not 
easy  to  discover  by  what  means  they  had  quitted  the  place. 
The  door  was  secure,  the  windows  were  down,  and  tho 
chimney  was  too  small  to  allow  of  the  passage  of  a  human 
body.  The  defection  of  the  Irishman  caused  the  captain 
rjvat  pain,  while  it  produced  surprise  even  in  the  serjeant. 
Mike's  fidelity  had  been  thought  of  proof;  and,  for  an  in 
stant,  the  master  of  the  place  was  disposed  to  believe  some 
evil  spirit  had  been  at  work  to  corrupt  his  people. 

"  This  is  more  than  I  could  have  expected,  Joyce !"  he 
said,  as  much  in  sorrow  as  in  anger.  "  I  should  have  as 
soon  looked  for  the  desertion  of  old  Pliny  as  that  of  Mike  !'' 

"  It  is  extr'or'nary,  sir;  but  one  is  never  safe  without  in- 
and-in  discipline.  A  drill  a  week,  and  that  only  for  M 
or  two  of  a  Saturday  afternoon,  captain  Willouuhhv,  may 
make  a  sort  of  country  militia,  but  it  will  do  nothing  for  iho 
field.  'Talk  of  enlisting  men  for  a  year,  sorjeant  J«>\ ce,' 
said  old  colonel  Flanker  to  me,  one  day  in  the  last  war — 
*  why  it  will  take  a  year  to  teach  a  soldier  how  to  eat.  Your 
silly  fellows  in  the  provincial  assemblies  fancy  because  a 
man  has  teeth,  and  a  stomach,  and  an  appetite,  that  he 
knows  how  to  eat ;  but  eating  is  an  art,  serjeant ;  and  mill- 


70  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

tary  eating  above  all  other  branches  of  it ;  and  I  maintain  a 
soldier  can  no  more  learn  how  to  eat,'  as  a  soldier,  the  colonel 
meant,  your  honour,  '  than  he  can  learn  to  plan  a  cam 
paign  by  going  through  the  manual  exercise.'  For  my  part, 
captain  Willoughby,  I  have  always  thought  it  took  a  man 
his  first  five  years'  enlistment  to  learn  how  to  obey  orders." 

"  I  had  thought  that  Irishman's  heart  in  the  right  place, 
Joyce,  and  counted  as  much  on  him  as  I  did  on  you  !" 

"  On  me,  captain  Willoughby  !"  answered  the  serjeant,* 
in  a  tone  of  mortification.  "  I  should  think  your  honour 
would  have  made  some  difference  between  your  old  orderly 
— a  man  who  had  served  thirty  years  in  your  own  regiment, 
and  most  of  the  time  in  your  own  company,  and  a  bit  of  a 
wild  Hibernian  of  only  ten  years'  acquaintance,  and  he  a 
man  who  never  saw  a  battalion  paraded  for  real  service  !" 

"  I  see  my  error  now,  Joyce ;  but  Michael  had  so  much 
blundering  honesty  about  him,  or  seemed  to  have,  that  I 
have  been  his  dupe.  It  is  too  late,  however,  to  repine;  the 
fellow  is  gone ;  it  only  remains  to  ascertain  the  manner  of 
his  flight.  May  not  Joel  have  undone  the  fastenings  of  the 
door,  and  let  him  and  the  Indian  escape  together,  in  com 
mon  with  the  rest  of  the  deserters?" 

"  I  secured  that  door,  sir,  with  my  own  hands,  in  a  mili 
tary  manner,  and  know  that  it  was  found  as  I  left  it.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Woods'  bed  seems  to  have  been  disturbed ;  per 
haps  that  may  furnish  a  clue." 

A  clue  the  bed  did  furnish,  and  it  solved  the  problem. 
The  bed-cord  was  removed,  and  both  the  sheets  and  one  of 
the  blankets  were  missing.  This  directed  the  inquiry  to  tho 
windows,  one  of  which  was  not  closed  entirely.  A  chimney 
stood  near  the  side  of  this  window,  and  by  its  aid  it  was  not 
difficult  to  reach  the  ridge  of  the  roof.  On  tho  inner  side 
of  the  roof  was  the  staging,  or  walk,  already  mentioned ; 
and,  once  on  that,  a  person  could  make  the  circuit  of  the 
entire  roof,  in  perfect  safety.  Joyce  mounted  to  the  ridge, 
followed  by  the  captain,  and  gained  the  staging  with  a  little 
effort,  whence  they  proceeded  round  the  buildings  to  ascer 
tain  if  the  rope  was  not  yet  hanging  over  the  exterior,  as  a 
means  of  descent.  It  was  found  as  expected,  and  withdrawn 
lest  it  might  be  used  to  introduce  enemies  within  the  house. 

These  discoveries  put  the  matter  of  Michael's  delinquency 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  71 

at  rest,  lie  had  clearly  gone  off  with  his  prisoner,  and 
might  next  be  looked  for  in  the  ranks  of  the  besiegers.  The 
•:i»u  of  this  truth  gave  the  captain  more  than  uneasi 
ness  ;  it  caused  him  pain,  for  the  county  Lcitrim-man  had 
t  favourite  with  the  whole  family,  and  most  especially 
with  his  daughter  Maud. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  and  the  blacks  will  leave  me,  Joyce," 
he  observed,  as  the  scrjeant  and  himself  descended,  by  the 
common  passage,  to  the  court.  "  On  you  I  ran  rely,  as  I 
would  rely  on  my  noble  son,  were  he  with  me  at  this  mo 
ment." 

"  I  beg  your  honour's  pardon  —  few  words  tell  best  for  a 
man,  deeds  being  his  duty  —  but,  if  your  honour  will  have 
the  condescension  just  to  issue  your  orders,  the  manner  in 
which  they  shall  be  obeyed  will  tell  the  whole  story." 

"  I  am  satisfied  of  that,  scrjcant ;  we  must  put  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  and  die  in  the  breach,  should  it  be  necessary,  be 
fore  we  give  up  the  place." 

By  this  time  the  two  old  soldiers  were  again  in  the  court, 
where  they  found  all  their  remaining  force,  of  the  male  sex  ; 
the  men  being  too  uneasy,  indeed,  to  think  of  going  to  their 
pallets,  until  better  assured  of  their  safety.  Captain  Wil- 
loughby  ordered  Joyce  to  draw  them  up  in  line  again,  when 
he  addressed  them  once  more  in  person. 

"  My  friends,"  the  captain  commenced,  "  there  would  be 
little  use  in  attempting  to  conceal  from  you  our  real  situa 
tion  ;  nor  would  it  be  strictly  honest.  You  see  here  every 
man  on  whom  I  can  now  depend  for  the  defence  of  my  fire 
side  and  family.  Mike  has  gone  with  the  rest,  and  the  In 
dian  has  escaped  in  his  company.  You  can  make  up  your 
own  opinions  of  our  chances  of  success,  but  my  resolution 
is  formed.  Before  I  open  a  gate  to  the  merciless  wretches 
without,  who  are  worse  than  the  savages  of  the  wilderness, 
possessing  all  their  bad  and  none  of  their  redeeming  quali- 
!t  is  my  determination  to  be  buried  under  the  ruins  of 
this  dwelling.  But  you  are  not  bound  to  imivate  my  exam 
ple  ;  and,  if  any  man  among  you,  black  or  white,  regrets 
here  at  this  moment,  he  shall  still  have  arms  and  am 
munition,  and  food  given  him,  the  gates  shall  be  opened, 
and  he  may  go  freely  to  seek  his  safety  in  the  forest.  For 
God's  sake,  let  there  b«  no  more  desertions ;  he  that  wishes 


72  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

to  quit  me,  may  now  quit  me  unmolested ;  but,  after  this 
moment,  martial  law  will  be  enforced,  and  I  shall  give  or 
ders  to  shoot  down  any  man  detected  in  treachery,  as  I 
would  shoot  down  a  vicious  dog." 

This  address  was  heard  in  profound  silence.  No  man 
stirred,  nor  did  any  man  speak. 

"  Blodget,"  continued  the  captain,  "  you  have  been  with 
me  a  shorter  time  than  any  other  person  present,  and  cannot 
feel  the  same  attachment  to  me  and  mine  as  the  rest.  You 
are  the  only  native  American  among  us,  Joyce  excepted  — 
for  we  count  the  blacks  as  nothing  in  respect  to  country  — • 
and  may  feel  that  I  am  an  Englishman  born,  as  I  fear  has 
been  the  case  with  the  rest  of  your  friends.  Perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  ask  you  to  remain.  Take  your  arms,  then, 
and  make  the  best  of  your  way  to  the  settlements.  Should 
you  reach  Albany,  you  might  even  serve  me  essentially  by 
delivering  a  letter  I  will  confide  to  you,  and  which  will  bring 
us  effectual  succour." 

The  young  man  did  not  answer,  though  his  fingers  work 
ed  on  the  barrel  of  his  musket,  and  he  shifted  his  weight, 
from  leg  to  leg,  like  one  whose  inward  feelings  were  moved. 

"  I  believe  I  understand  you,  captain  Willoughby,"  he 
said,  at  length,  "  though  I  think  you  don't  understand  me. 
I  know  you  old  country  people  think  meanly  of  us  new 
country  people,  but  I  suppose  that's  in  the  natur'  of  things; 
then,  I  allow  Joel  Strides'  conduct  has  been  such  as  to  give 
you  reason  to  judge  us  harshly.  But  there  is  a  difference 
among  us,  as  well  as  among  the  English  ;  and  some  of  us — 
I  won't  say  I  am  such  a  man,  but  actions  speak  louder  than 
words,  and  all  will  be  known  in  the  end  —  but  some  of  us 
will  be  found  true  to  our  bargains,  as  well  as  other  men." 

"  Bravely  answered,  my  lad,"  cried  the  serjeant,  heartily, 
and  looking  round  at  his  commander  with  exultation,  to 
congratulate. him  on  having  such  a  follower  —  "This  is  a 
man  who  will  obey  orders  through  thick  and  thin,  I  '11  an- 
swer  for  it,  your  honour.  Little  does  he  care  who's  king 
or  who 's  governor,  so  long  as  he  knows  his  captain  and  his 
corps." 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,  serjeant  Joyce,"  the  youth  ob 
served,  firmly.  "  I  'm  for  my  country,  and  I  'd  quit  this 
house  in  a  minute,  did  I  believe  captain  Willoughby  meant 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  73 

to  help  the  crown.  But  I  have  lived  long  enough  here,  to 
know  he  is  at  the  most  neutral ;  though  I  think  he  rather 
favours  the  side  of  the  colonies  than  that  of  the  crown." 

"  You  have  judged  rightly,  Blodget,"  observed  the  cap 
tain.  "  I  do  not  quite  like  this  declaration  of  independence, 
though  I  can  scarce  blame  congress  for  having  made  it.  Of 
the  two,  I  think  the  Americans  nearest  right,  and  I  now 
conceive  myself  to  be  more  of  an  American  than  an  English 
man.  I  wish  this  to  be  understood,  Joyce." 

"  Do  you,  sir  ?  —  It 's  just  as  your  honour  pleases.  I 
didn't  know  which  side  it  was  your  pleasure  to  support,  nor 
does  it  make  any  great  difference  with  most  of  us.  Orders 
are  orders,  let  them  come  from  king  or  colonies.  I  would 
take  the  liberty  of  recommending,  your  honour,  that  this 
young  man  be  promoted.  Strides'  desertion  has  left  a  va 
cancy  among  the  corporals,  and  we  shall  want  another  for 
the  guard.  It  would  hardly  do  to  make  a  nigger  a  cor 
poral." 

"  Very  well,  Joyce,  have  it  as  you  wish,"  interrupted  the 
captain,  a  little  impatiently;  for  he  perceived  he  had  a  spirit 
to  deal  with  in  Blodget  that  must  hold  such  trifles  at  their 
true  value.  "  Let  it  be  corporal  Allen  and  corporal  Blodget 
in  future." 

"  Do  you  hear,  men  ?  —  These  are  general  orders.  The 
relieved  guard  will  fall  out,  and  try  to  get  a  little  sleep,  as 
we  shall  parade  again  half  an  hour  before  day." 

Alas !  the  relieved  guard,  like  the  relief  itself,  consisted 
of  only  two  men,  corporal  Blodget  and  Pliny  the  younger; 
old  Pliny,  in  virtue  of  his  household  work,  being  rated  as  an 
idler.  These  five,  with  th*  captain  and  the  serjeant,  made 
th<  number  of  the  garrison  seven,  which  was  the  whole  male 
force  that  now  remained. 

Captain  Willoughby  directed  Joyce  and  his  two  compa 
nions  to  go  to  their  pallets,  notwithstanding,  assuming  the 
charge  of  the  look-out  himself,  and  profiting  by  the  occasion 
to  make  himself  better  acquainted  with  the  character  of  his 
new  corporal  than  circumstances  had  hitherto  permitted. 

VOL.  II.— 7 


74  THE     HUTTED     KNOLI*. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

For  thee  they  fought,  for  thee  they  fell, 
And  their  oath  was  on  thee  laid ; 
To  thee  the  clarions  raised  their  swell, 
And  the  dying  warriors  pray'd." 

PERCIVAL. 

THE  distaste  for  each  other  which  existed  between  the 
people  of  New  England  and  those  of  the  adjoining  colonies, 
anterior  to  the  war  of  the  revolution,  is  a  matter  of  history. 
It  was  this  feeling  that  threw  Schuyler,  one  of  the  ablest 
and  best  men  in  the  service  of  his  country,  into  the  shade, 
a  year  later  than  the  period  of  which  we  are  writing.  This 
feeling  was  very  naturally  produced,  and,  under  the  circum 
stances,  was  quite  likely  to  be  active  in  a  revolution.  Al 
though  New  England  and  New  York  were  contiguous  terri 
tories,  a  wide  difference  existed  between  their  social  condi 
tions.  Out  of  the  larger  towns,  there  could  scarcely  be  said 
to  be  a  gentry  at  all,  in  the  former;  while  the  latter,  a  con 
quered  province,  had  received  the  frame-work  of  the  English 
system,  possessing  Lords  of  the  Manor,  and  divers  other  of 
the  fragments  of  the  feudal  system.  So  great  was  the  social 
equality  throughout  the  interior  of  the  New  England  pro 
vinces,  indeed,  as  almost  to  remove  the  commoner  distinctions 
of  civilised  associations,  bringing  all  classes  surprisingly 
near  the  same  level,  with  the  exceptions  of  the  very  low,  or 
some  rare  instance  of  an  individual  who  was  raised  above 
his  neighbours  by  unusual  wealth,  aided  perhaps  by  the  ac 
cidents  of  birth,  and  the  advantages  of  education. 

The  results  of  such  a  state  of  society  are  easily  traced. 
Habit  had  taken  the  place  of  principles,  and  a  people  ac 
customed  to  see  even  questions  of  domestic  discipline  referred, 
either  to  the  church  or  to  public  sentiment,  and  who  knew 
few  or  none  of  the  ordinary  distinctions  of  social  intercourse, 
submitted  to  the  usages  of  other  conditions  of  society,  with 
singular  distaste  and  stubborn  reluctance.  The  native  of 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  7f> 

England  deil-nvd  singularly  to  great  wealth,  in  1?7»;, 
a>  ii"  is  kii(.\\n  to  defer  to  it  to-day  ;  but  it  was  opposed  to 
all  his  habits  and  prejudices  to  d«-ter  to  social  station.  Un 
used  to  intercourse  with  what  was  then  called  the  great 
world  of  tin;  province*)  lie  knew  not  how  to  appreciate  its 
manners  or  opinions,-  and,  as  is  usual  with  the  provincial, 
he  affected  to  despise  that  which  he  neither  practised  nor 
understood.  This,  at  once,  indisposed  him  to  acknowledge 
the  distinctions  of  classes;  and,  when  accident  threw  him 
into  tho  adjoining  province,  he  became  marked,  at  once,  i\>r 

.!iL,r  the  usages  he  encountered,  comparing  them,  with 
singular  self-felicitation,  to  those  he  had  left  behind  him; 
sometimes  with  justice  beyond  a  doubt,  but  oflener  in  pro 
vincial  ignorance  and  narrow  bigotry. 

A  >imilar  state  of  things,  on  a  larger  scale,  has  been  wit 
nessed,  more  especially  in  western  New  York,  since  the 
of  '83;  the  great  inroads  of  emigrants  from  the  New 

aid  states  having  almost  converted  that  district  of 
country  into  an  eastern  colony.  Men  of  the  world,  while 
they  admit  how  much  has  Ixx-u  gained  in  activity,  available 
intelligence  of  the  practical  school,  and  enterprise,  regret 
that  the  fusion  has  been  quite  so  rapid  and  so  complete;  it 

apparently  a  law  of  nature  that  nothing  precious  that 
comes  of  man  shall  be  enjoyed  altogether  without  alloy. 

The  condition  in  which  captain  \Villoughby  was  now 
placed,  mini/I  have  been  traced  t6  causes  connected  with 
tin-  i«-din«.«s  and  habits  above  alluded  to.  It  was  distasteful 
to  Joel  Strides,  and  one  or  two  of  his  associates,  to  see  a 
social  chasm  as  wide  as  that  which  actually  existed  between 
the  family  of  the  proprietor  of  the  Knoll  and  his  own,  grow 
ing  no  narrower;  and  an  active  cupidity,  with  the  h<>, 
confiscations,  or  an  abandonment  of  the  estate,  came  in  aid 
of  this  rankling  jealousy  of  station;  the  most  uneasy,  as  it 
is  tho  meanest  of  all  our  vices.  Utterly  incapable  of  appre 
ciating  the  width  of  that  void  which  separates  the  gentle 
man  from  the  man  of  coarse  feelings  and  illiterate  vulgarity, 

^an  to  preach  that  doctrine  of  cxaimerafed  and  mis 
taken  equality  which  says  "  one  man  is  as  good  as  another," 
a  doctrine  that  is  nowhere  engrafted  even  on  the  most  de 
mocratic  of  our  institutions  to-day,  since  it  would  totally 
supersede*  the  elections,  and  leave  us  to  draw  lots  for  public 


76  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

trusts,  as  men  are  drawn  for  juries.  On  ordinary  occasions, 
the  malignant  machinations  of  Strides  would  probably  have 
led  to  no  results  ;  but,  aided  by  the  opinions  and  temper  of  the 
times,  he  had  no  great  difficulty  in  undermining  his  master's 
popularity,  by  incessant  and  well-digested  appeals  to  the 
envy  and  cupidity  of  his  companions.  The  probity,  liberality, 
and  manly  sincerity  of  captain  Willoughby,  often  counter 
acted  his  schemes,  it  is  true ;  but,  as  even  the  stone  yields 
to  constant  attrition,  so  did  Joel  finally  succeed  in  over 
coming  the  influence  of  these  high  qualities,  by  dint  of  per 
severance,  and  cunning,  not  a  little  aided  by  certain  auxilia 
ries  freely  obtained  from  the  Father  of  Lies. 

As  our  tale  proceeds,  Joel's  connection  with  the  late 
movement  will  become  more  apparent,  and  we  prefer  leaving 
the  remainder  of  the  explanations  to  take  their  proper  places 
in  the  course  of  the  narrative. 

Joyce  was  so  completely  a  matter  of  drill,  that  he  was  in 
a  sound  sleep  three  minutes  after  he  had  lain  down,  the 
negro  who  belonged  to  his  guard  imitating  his  industry  in 
this  particular  with  equal  coolness.  As  for  the  thoughtful 
Scotchman,  Jamie  Allen,  sleep  and  he  were  strangers  that 
night.  To  own  the  truth,  the  disaffection  of  Mike  not  only 
surprised,  but  it  disappointed  him.  He  remained  in  the 
court,  therefore,  conversing  on  the  subject  with  the  "laird," 
after  his  companions  had  fallen  asleep. 
.  "  I  wad  na  hae'  thought  that  o'  Michael,"  he  said,  "  for 
the  man  had  an  honest  way  with  him,  and  was  so  seeming 
valiant,  that  I  could  na  hae'  supposed  him  capable  of  proving 
a  desairter.  Mony's  the  time  that  I  've  heard  him  swear — 
for  Michael  was  an  awfu'  hand  at  that  vice,  when  his  betters 
were  no  near  to  rebuke  him  —  but  often  has  he  swore  that 
Madam,  and  her  winsome  daughters,  were  the  pride  of  his 
een  :  ay,  and  their  delight  too  !" 

"  The  poor  fellow  has  yielded  to  my  unlucky  fortune, 
Jamie,"  returned  the  captain,  "  and  I  sometimes  think  it 
were  better  had  you  all  imitated  his  example." 

"  Begging  pairdon,  captain  Willoughby,  for  the  fami 
liarity,  but  ye 're  just  wrang,  fra'  beginning  to  end,  in  the 
supposition.  No  man  with  a  hairt  in  his  body  wad  desairt 
ye  in  a  time  like  this,  and  no  mair's  to  be  said  in  the 
matter.  Nor  do  I  think  that  luuk  has  had  anything  to  do 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  77 

with   Michael's  deficiency,  unless   ye  ca'  it  luuk  to  !K>  huni 
niul  edicated  in  a  misguiding  religion.     Michael's  catholicity 
is  at  thi/  bottom  of  his  backsliding,  ye '11  find,  if  ye  look 
iy  into  the  maiter." 

"  I  do  not  eee  h<>sv  that  is  to  bo  made  out,  Allen  ;  all  socts 
of  the  Christian  religion,  I  believe,  teaching  us  to  abide  by 
our  engagements,  and  to  perform  our  duties." 

••  .\a  douht —  IKI  doubt,  'squire  \Villoughby —  there's  a 
seeming  desire  to  teach  as  much  in  a'  churches;  but  ye 'II 
no  deny  that  the  creatur'  o'  Rome  wears  a  mask,  and  that 
catholicity  is,  at  the  best,  but  a  wicked  feature  to  enter  into 
the  worship  of  God." 

"Catholicism,  Jamie,  means  adherence  to  the  catholic 
church " 

"  Just  that — just  that" — interrupted  the  Scot,  eagerly — 
"and  it's  that  o'  which  I  complain.  All  protestants — wa- 
ther  fully  disposed,  or  uinly  half-disposed,  as  may  be  the 
-.'.  ith  the  Knglish  kirk  —  all  protestants  agree  in  con 
demning  the  varry  word  catholic,  which  is  a  sign  and  a 
symbol  of  the  foul  woman  o'  Babylon." 

"  Then,  Jamie,  they  agree  in  condemning  what  they  don't 
understand.  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  I  am  not  a  member 
of  the  catholic  church  myself." 

Yer<aP!  —  No,  captain  Willoughby,  ye 're  no  catholic, 
though  you  are  a  bit  akin  to  it,  perhaps.  I  know  that  Mr. 
Woods,  that's  now  in  the  hands  o'  the  savages,  prays  for 
the  catholics,  and  professes  to  believe  in  what  he  ca's  the 
« Holy  Catholic  Kirk  ;'  but,  then,  I  've  always  supposed  that 
was  in  the  way  o'  Christian  charity  like;  for  one  is  oh1 
to  use  decent  language,  ye '11  be  acknowledging,  sir,  in  the 
pulpit,  if  it's  only  for  appearances  sake." 

u  \Vcll — well— Jamie;  a  more  fitting  occasion  may  occur 
for  discussing  matters  of  this  nature,  and  we  will  postpone 
the  subject  to  another  time.  I  may  have  wed  of  your  ser 
vices  an  hour  or  two  honce,  and  it  will  be  well  for  rvt-ry 
man  to  come  to  the  work  fresh  and  clear-headed.  Go  to 
your  pallet  then,  and  expoct  an  early  call." 

The  mason  was  not  a  man  to  oppose  such  an  order  com- 
ing  from  the  'laird;'  and  he  withdrew,   leaving  tho  captain 
standing  in  the  centre  of  the  court  quite  alone.     ^ 
alone,  for  young  Blodget  had  ascended  to  the  gallery  or 
7* 


78  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

staging  that  led  around  the  inner  sides  of  the  roofs,  while 
the  negro  on  guard  was  stationed  at  the  gateway,  as  the 
only  point  where  the  Hut  could  be  possibly  carried  by  a 
coup-de-main.  As  the  first  of  these  positions  commanded 
the  best  exterior  view  from  the  inside  of  the  buildings,  the 
captain  mounted  the  stairs  he  had  so  recently  descended, 
and  joined  the  young  Rhode  Islander  at  his  post. 

The  night  was  star-light,  but  the  elevation  at  which  the 
two  watchers  were  placed,  was  unfavourable  to  catching 
glimpses  of  any  lurking  enemy.  The  height  confounded 
objects  with  the  ground  on  which  they  were  placed,  though 
Blodget  told  the  captain  he  did  not  think  a  man  could  cross 
the  palisades  without  his  being  seen.  By  moving  along  the 
staging  on  the  southern  side  of  the  quadrangle,  he  could 
keep  a  tolerable  look-out,  on  the  front  and  two  flanks,  at 
the  same  time.  Still,  this  duty  could  not  be  performed  with 
out  considerable  risk,  as  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  man 
moving  along  the  ridge  of  the  building  would  be  almost 
certain  to  attract  the  eye  of  any  Indian  without.  This  was 
the  first  circumstance  that  the  captain  remarked  on  joining 
his  companion,  and  gratitude  induced  him  to  point  it  out,  in 
order  that  the  other  might,  in  a  degree  at  least,  avoid  the 
danger. 

"  I  suppose,  Blodget,  this  is  the  first  of  your  service," 
said  captain  Willoughby,  "  and  it  is  not  easy  to  impress  on 
a  young  man  the  importance  of  unceasing  vigilance  against 
savage  artifices." 

"  I  admit  the  truth  of  all  you  say,  sir,"  answered  Blodget, 
"  though  I  do  not  believe  any  attempt  will  be  made  on  the 
house,  until  the  other  side  has  sent  in  what  the  serjeant  calls 
another  flag." 

"  What  reason  have  you  for  supposing  this  ?"  asked  the 
captain,  in  a  little  surprise. 

"  It  seems  unreasonable  for  men  to  risk  their  lives  when 
an  easier  way  to  conquest  may  seem  open  to  them.  That 
is  all  I  meant,  captain  Willoughby." 

"  I  believe  I  understand  you,  Blodget.  You  think  Joel 
and  his  friends  have  succeeded  so  well  in  drawing  off  my 
men,  that  they  may  be  inclined  to  wait  a  little,  in  order  to 
ascertain  if  further  advantages  may  not  be  obtained  in  the 
same  way." 


THE     HUTTED      KNOLL.  79 

Blodget  confessed  that  he  had  some  such  thoughts  in  his 
mind,  while,  at  the  same  lime,  he  declared  that  he  believed 
the  disaffection  would  go  no  further. 

"  It  is  not  easy  for  it  to  do  so,"  returned  the  captain, 
smiling  a  little  bitterly,  as  he  remembered  how  many  who 
itcn  of  his  bread,  and  had  been  cared  for  by  him,  in 
sickness  and  adversity,  had  deserted  him  in  his  need,  "  un 
less  they  persuade  my  wife  and  daughters  to  follow  those 
who  have  led  the  way." 

Respect  kept  Blodget  silent  for  a  minute ;  then  uneasiness 
induced  him  to  speak. 

"  I  hope  captain  Willoughby  don't  distrust  any  who  now 
remain  with  him,"  he  said.  "  If  so,  I  know  /  must  be  the 
person." 

"  Why  you,  in  particular,  young  man  ?  With  you,  surely, 
I  have  every  reason  to  be  satisfied." 

"  It  cannot  be  serjeant  Joyce,  for  he  will  stay  until  he 
get  your  orders  to  march,"  the  youth  replied,  not  altogether 
without  humour  in  his  manner;  "and,  as  for  the  Scotch 
man,  he  is  old,  and  men  of  his  years  are  not  apt  to  wait  so 
long,  if  they  intend  to  be  traitors.  The  negroes  all  lovo 
you,  as  if  you  were  their  father,  and  there  is  no  one  but  me 
left  to  betray  you." 

"  I  thank  you  for  this  short  enumeration  of  my  strength, 
Blodget,  since  it  gives  me  new  assurance  of  my  people's 
fidelity.  You  I  will  not  distrust ;  the  others  I  cannot,  and 

there  is  a  feeling  of  high  confidence What  do  you  see  1 

— why  do  you  lower  your  piece,  and  stand  at  guard,  in  this 
manner?" 

"  That  is  a  man's  form,  sir,  on  the  right  of  the  gate,  try 
ing  to  climb  the  palisades.  I  have  had  my  eye  on  it,  for 
some  time,  and  I  feel  sure  of  my  aim." 

"  Hold  an  instant,  Blodget ;  let  us  be  certain  before  we 
act." 

The  young  man  lowered  the  butt  of  his  piece,  waiting 
patiently  and  calmly  for  his  superior  to  decide.  There  was 
a  human  form  visible,  sure  enough,  and  it  was  seen  slowly 
and  cautiously  rising  until  it  reached  the  summit  of  the 
stockade,  where  it  appeared  to  pause  to  reconnoitre.  Whe 
ther  it  were  a  pnle-friee  or  a  red-skin,  it  was  impossible  to 
distinguish,  though  the  whole  movement  left  little  doubt  thac 


80  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

an  assailant  or  a  spy  was  attempting  to  pass  the  outer 
defences. 

"  We  cannot  spare  that  fellow,"  said  the  captain,  with  a 
little  regret  in  his  manner ;  "  it  is  more  than  we  can  afford. 
You  must  bring  him  down,  Blodget.  The  instant  you  have 
fired,  come  to  the  other  end  of  the  stage,  where  we  will 
watch  the  result." 

This  arranged,  the  captain  prudently  passed  away  from 
the  spot,  turning  to  note  the  proceedings  of  his  companion, 
the  moment  he  was  at  the  opposite  angle  of  the  gallery. 
Blodget  was  in  no  haste.  He  waited  until  his  aim  was  cer 
tain  ;  then  the  stillness  of  the  valley  was  rudely  broken  by 
the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle,  and  a  flash  illumined  its  obscu 
rity.  The  figure  fell  outward,  like  a  bird  shot  from  its  perch, 
lying  in  a  ball  at  the  foot  of  the  stockade.  Still,  no  cry  or 
groan  gave  evidence  of  nature  surprised  by  keen  and  unex 
pected  anguish.  At  the  next  instant  Blodget  was  by  captain 
Willoughby's  side.  His  conduct  was  a  pledge  of  fidelity 
that  could  not  be  mistaken,  and  a  warm  squeeze  of  the  hand 
assured  the  youth  of  his  superior's  approbation. 

It  was  necessary  to  be  cautious,  however,  and  to  watch 
the  result  with  ceaseless  vigilance.  Joyce  and  the  men  be 
low  had  taken  the  alarm,  and  the  serjeant  with  his  compa 
nions  were  ordered  up  on  the  stage  immediately,  leaving 
the  negro,  alone,  to  watch  the  gate.  A  message  was  also 
sent  to  the  females,  to  give  them  confidence,  and  particularly 
to  direct  the  blacks  to  arm,  and  to  repair  to  the  loops. 

All  this  was  done  without  confusion,  and  with  so  little 
noise  as  to  prevent  those  without  from  understanding  what 
was  in  progress.  Terror  kept  the  negroes  silent,  and  disci 
pline  the  others.  As  every  one  had  lain  down  in  his  or  her 
clothes,  it  was  not  a  minute  before  every  being  in  the  Hut 
was  up,  and  in  motion.  It  is  unnecessary  to  speak  of  the 
mental  prayers  .and  conflicting  emotions  with  which  Mrs. 
Willoughby  and  her  daughters  prepared  themselves  for  the 
struggle;  and,  yet,  even  the  beautiful  and  delicate  Maud 
braced  her  nerves  to  meet  the  emergency  of  a  frontier  as 
sault.  As  for  Beulah,  gentle,  peaceful,  and  forgiving  as  she 
was  by  nature,  the  care  of  little  Evert  aroused  all  the  mother 
within  her,  and  something  like  a  frown  that  betokened  reso 
lution  was,  for  a  novelty,  seen  on  her  usually  placid  face. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  81 

A  moment  sufficed  to  let  Joyce  and  his  companions  into 
the  state  of  affairs.  There  iu>\v  being  four  armed  men  on 
the  stnge,  one  took  each  of  the  three  exposed  sides  of  the 
buildini>  it.  ua'ch,  leaving  the  master  of  the  house  to  inuve. 
from  post  to  post,  to  listen  to  suggestions,  hear  reports,  and 
communicate  orders. 

The  dark  object  that  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  palisades  was 
pointed  out  to  the  serjeant  the  instant  he  was  on  the  stage, 
and  one  of  his  othVes  uas  to  observe  it,  in  order  to  ascertain 
if  it  moved,  or  whether  any  attempts  were  made  to  carry 
off  the  body.  The  American  Indians  attach  all  the  glory 
or  shame  of  a  battle  to  the  acquisition  or  loss  of  scalps,  and 
one  of  their  practices  was  to  remove  those  who  had  fallen, 
at  every  hazard,  in  order  to  escape  the  customary  mutila 
tion.  Some  tribes  even  believed  it  disgrace  to  suffer  a  dead 
body  to  be  struck  by  the  enemy,  and  many  a  warrior  has 
lost  his  life  in  the  effort  to  save  the  senseless  corpse  of  a 
comrade  from  this  fancied  degradation. 

As  soon  as  the  little  stir  created  in  the  Hut  by  the  muster 
ing  of  the  men  was  over,  a  stillness  as  profound  as  that 
which  had  preceded  the  alarm  reigned  around  the  place. 
No  noise  came  from  the  direction  of  the  mill;  no  cry,  or 
call,  or  signal  of  battle  was  heard  ;  everything  lay  in  the 
quiet  of  midnight.  Half  an  hour  thus  passed,  when  the 
streak  of  light  that  appeared  in  the  east  announced  the  ap 
proach  of  day. 

The  twenty  minutes  that  succeeded  were  filled  with  in 
tense  anxiety.  The  slow  approach  of  light  gradually  brought 
out  object  after  object  in  the  little  panorama,  awakening  and 
removing  alike,  conjectures  and  apprehensions.  At  first  the 
<:rey  of  the  palisades  became  visible;  then  the  chapel,  in  its 
sombre  outlines  ;  the  skirts  of  the  woods;  the  different  cabins 
that  lined  them;  the  cattle  in  the  fields,  and  the  scattering 
.  As  for  Joyce,  he  kept  his  gaze  fastened  on  the  object 
at  thn  foot  of  the  stockade,  expecting  every  instant  there 
would  be  an  attempt  to  carry  it  off. 

At  length,  the  light  became  so  strong  as  to  allow  the  eye 
to  take  in  the  entire  surface  of  the  natural  glacis  without 
the  defences,  brinirin?  the  assurance  that  no  enemy  was 
near.  As  the  ground  was  perfectly  clear,  a  few  fruit-trees 
and  shrubs  on  the  lawn  excepted,  and  by  changing  positions 


82  T  II  E     HUTTED.  KNOLL. 

on  the  stage,  these  last  could  now  be  examined  on  all  sides, 
nothing  was  easier  than  to  make  certain  of  this  fact.  The 
fences,  too,  were  light  and  open,  rendering  it  impossible  for 
any  ambush  or  advancing  party  to  shelter  itself  behind  them. 
In  a  word,  daylight  brought  the  comfortable  assurance  to 
those  within  the  palisades  that  another  night  was  passed 
Without  bringing  an  assault. 

"  We  shall  escape  this  morning,  I  do  believe,  Joyce,"  said 
the  captain,  who  had  laid  down  his  rifle,  and  no  longer  felt 
it  necessary  to  keep  the  upper  portions  of  his  body  conceal 
ed  behind  the  roof — "  Nothing  can  be  seen  that  denotes  an 
intention  to  attack,  and  not  an  enemy  is  near." 

"  I  will  take  one  more  thorough  look,  your  honour,"  an 
swered  the  serjeant,  mounting  to  the  ridge  of  the  building, 
where  he  obtained  the  immaterial  advantage  of  seeing  more 
at  the  same  time,  at  the  risk  of  exposing  his  whole  person, 
should  any  hostile  rifle  be  in  reach  of  a  bullet — "  then  we 
may  be  certain." 

Joyce  was  a  man  who  stood  just  six  feet  in  his  stockings; 
and,  losing  no  part  of  this  stature  by  his  setting  up,  a  better 
object  for  a  sharp-shooter  could  not  have  been  presented 
than  he  now  offered.  The  crack  of  a  rifle  soon  saluted  the 
cars  of  the  garrison ;  then  followed  the  whizzing  of  the  bullet 
as  it  came  humming  through  the  air  towards  the  Hut.  But 
the  report  was  so  distant  as  at  once  to  announce  that  the 
piece  was  discharged  from  the  margin  of  the  forest ;  a  certain 
evidence  of  two  important  facts ;  one,  that  the  enemy  had 
fallen  back  to  a  cover ;  the  other,  that  the  house  was  nar 
rowly  watched. 

Nothing  tries  the  nerves  of  a  young  soldier  more  than  the 
whizzing  of  a  distant  fire.  The  slower  a  bullet  or  a  shot 
approaches,  the  more  noise  it  makes ;  and,  the  sound  con 
tinuing  longer  than  is  generally  imagined,  the  uninitiated 
are  apt  to  imagine  that  the  dangerous  missile  is  travelling 
on  an  errand  directly  towards  themselves.  Space  appears 
annihilated,  and  raw  hands  are  often  seen  to  duck  at  a 
round  shot  that  is  possibly  flying  a  hundred  yards  from 
them. 

On  the  present  occasion,  the  younger  Pliny  fairly  squatted 
below  the  root  •  Jamie  thought  it  prudent  to  put  some  of  his 
own  masonry,  which  was  favourably  placed  in  an  adjacent 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  83 

chimney  for  such  a  purpose,  between  him  and  the  spot 
whence  the  report  proceeded;  while  even  Blodget  looked  up 
into  the  air,  as  if  he  expected  to  sec  where  the  bullet  was 
going.  Captain  \Villoughby  had  no  thought  of  the  missile; 
»s  looking  for  the  smoke  in  the  skirts  of  the  woods,  to 
note  the  spot ;  while  Joyce,  with  folded  arms,  stood  at  rest 
on  the  ridge,  actually  examining  the  valley  in  another  direc 
tion,  certain  that  a  fire  so  distant  could  not  be  very  dan 
gerous. 

Jamie's  calculation  proved  a  good  one.  The  bullet  struck 
against  the  chimney,  indented  a  brick,  and  fell  upon  the 
shingles  of  the  roof.  Joyce  descended  at  the  next  instant, 
and  he  coolly  picked  up,  and  kept  tossing  the  flattened  bit 
of  lead  in  his  hand,  for  the  next  minute  or  two,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  seemed  unconscious  of  having  it  at  all. 

"  The  enemy  is  besieging  us,  your  honour,"  said  Joyce, 
"  but  lie  will  not  attack  at  present.  If  I  might  presume  to 
advise,  we  shall  do  well  to  leave  a  single  sentinel  on  this 
stage,  since  no  one  can  approach  the  palisades  without  being 
seen,  if  the  man  keeps  in  motion." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  this  myself,  serjeant ;  we  will  first 
post  Blodget  here.  We  can  trust  him ;  and,  as  the  day 
advances,  a  less  intelligent  sentinel  will  answer.  At  the 
same  time,  he  must  be  instructed  to  keep  an  eye  in  the  rear 
of  the  Hut,  danger  often  coming  from  the  quarter  least  ex 
pected." 

All  this  was  done,  and  the  remainder  of  the  men  descended 
to  the  court.  Captain  Willoughby  ordered  the  gate  unbarred, 
when  he  passed  outside,  taking  the  direction  towards  the  life 
less  body,  which  still  lay  where  it  had  fallen,  at  the  foot  of 
the  stockades.  He  was  accompanied  by  Joyce  and  Jamie 
Allen,  the  latter  carrying  a  spade,  it  being  the  intention  to 
inter  the  savago  as  the  shortest  means  of  getting  rid  of  a 
disagreeable  object.  Our  two  old  soldiers  had  none  of  the 
sensitiveness  on  the  subject  of  exposure  that  is  so  apt  to 
disturb  the  tyro  in  the  art  of  war.  With  sentinels  propeily 
posted,  they  had  no  apprehensions  of  clangors  that  did  not 
exist,  and  they  moved  with  confidence  and  steadily  wherever 
duty  called.  Not  only  was  the  inner  gate  opened  and  passed, 
but  the  outer  also,  the  simple  precaution  of  stationing  a  man 
at  the  first  being  the  only  safeguard  taken. 


84  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

When  outside  of  the  palisades,  the  captain  and  his  com 
panions  proceeded  at  once  towards  the  body.  It  was  now 
sunrise,  and  a  rich  light  was  illuminating  the  hill-tops, 
though  the  direct  rays  of  the  luminary  had  not  yet  descend 
ed  to  the  valley.  There  lay  the  Indian,  precisely  as  he  had 
fallen,  no  warrior  having  interposed  to  save  him  from  the 
scalping-knife.  His  head  had  reached  the  earth  first,  and 
the  legs  and  hody  were  tumbled  on  it,  in  a  manner  to  ren 
der  the  form  a  confused  pile  of  legs  and  blanket,  rather  than 
a  bold  savage  stretched  in  the  repose  of  death. 

"  Poor  fellow  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  as  the  three  ap 
proached  the  spot;  "  it  is  to  be  hoped  Blodget's  bullet  did  its 
commission  faithfully,  else  the  fall  must  have  hurt  him 
sadly." 

"  By  Jove,  'tis  nothing  but  a  stuffed  soldier  !"  cried  Joyce, 
rolling  the  ingeniously  contrived  bundle  over  with  his  foot; 
"  and  here,  the  lad's  ball  has  passed  directly  through  its 
head  !  This  is  Injin  deviltry,  sir ;  it  has  been  tried,  in  order 
to  see  whether  our  sentinels  were  or  were  not  asleep." 

"  To  me,  Joyce,  it  seems  more  like  a  white  man's  clumsi 
ness.  The  fellow  has  been  made  to  resemble  an  Indian,  but 
people  of  our  own  colour  have  had  a  hand  in  the  affair." 

"  Well,  sir,  let  that  be  as  it  may,  it  is  lucky  our  youngster 
had  so  quick  an  eye,  and  so  nimble  a  finger.  See,  your 
honour ;  here  is  the  pole  by  which  the  effigy  was  raised  to 
the  top  of  the  palisades,  and  here  is  the  trail  on  the  grass 
yet,  by  which  his  supporter  has  crept  off.  The  fellow  seems 
to  have  scrambled  along  in  a  hurry ;  his  trail  is  as  plain  as 
that  of  a  whole  company." 

The  captain  examined  the  marks  left  on  the  grass,  and 
was  of  opinion  that  more  than  one  man  had  been  employed 
to  set  up  the  decoy  figure,  a  circumstance  that  seemed  pro 
bable  in  itself,  when  the  weight  of  the  image  and  the  danger 
of  exposure  were  remembered.  Let  that  be  as  it  might,  he 
was  rejoiced  on  reflection  that  no  one  was  hurt,  and  he  still 
retained  the  hope  of  being  able  to  come  to  such  an  under 
standing  with  his  invaders  as  to  supersede  the  necessity  of 
actual  violence. 

''  At  all  events,  your  honour,  I  will  carry  the  quaker  in," 
said  Joyce,  tossing  the  stuffed  figure  on  a  shoulder.  "  He 
will  do  to  man  the  quaker  gun  at  least,  and  may  be  of  use 


THE      IIUTTED     KNOLL.  65 

in  frightening  some  one  of  the  other  side,  more  than  he  has 
yet  frightened 

Captain  VVilloughby  did  not  object,  though  ho  reminded 

that  the  desertions  hud   probably  put  the  enemy  in 

-it'ii  of  a  minute  statement  of  their  defences  and  force, 

including  the  history  of  the  wooden  gun.     If  Joel  and  his 

fellow-delinquents  had  joined  the  party  at  the  mill,  the  name, 

age,  character  and  spirit  of  every  man  remaining  in  the 

garrison  were  probably  known  to  its  leaders;  and  neither 

quakers  nor  paddies  would  count  for  much  in  opposing  an 

assault. 

The  captain  came  within  the  gate  of  the  palisades  last, 
closing,  barring,  and  locking  it  with  his  own  hands,  when 
all  immediate  apprehensions  from  the  enemy  ceased.  He 
knew,  certainly,  that  it  would  probably  exceed  his  present 
means  of  resistance,  to  withstand  a  vigorous  assault;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  felt  assured  that  Indians  would  never 
approach  a  stockade  in  open  day,  and  expose  themselves  to 
the  hazards  of  losing  some  fifteen  or  twenty  of  their  num 
bers,  before  they  could  carry  the  place.  This  was  opposed 
to  all  their  notions  of  war,  neither  honour  nor  advantage 
tempting  them  to  adopt  it.  As  for  the  first,  agreeably  to 
>-a \aire  notions,  glory  was  to  be  measured  by  the  number 
of  scalps  taken  and  lost;  and,  counting  all  the  women  left 
in  the  Hut,  there  would  not  be  heads  enough  to  supply  a 
sufficient  number  to  prove  an  offset  to  those  which  would 
probably  be  lost  in  the  assault. 

All  this  did  the  captain  discuss  in  few  words,  with  the 
serjeant,  when  he  proceeded  to  join  his  anxious  and  expect 
ing  will.-  and  daughters. 

"  God  has  looked  down  upon  us  in  mercy,  and  protected 
us  this  ninht,"  said  the  grateful  Mrs.  Willoaghby,  with 
streaming  •  -lie  received  and  returned  her  hu>band's 

warm  embrace.  '•  \\"e  cannot  be  too  thankful,  \\hrn  ue 
Joi.k  at  these  dear  girls,  and  our  precious  little  Evert.  If 
Robert  were  only  with  us  now,  I  should  be  entirelv  happy!'' 

"Such  is  human  nature,  my  little  Maud" — answered  the 
captain,  drawing  his  darling  towards  himself  and  ki>.-in^ 
her  po!i>h«  d  forehead.  "  The  very  thoughts  of  being  in  our 
actual  strait  would  have  made  your  mother  as  miserable  as 
her  worst  enemy  could  wish  —  if,  indeed,  there  be  such  a 

VOL.  II.  — 8 


86  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

monster  on  earth  as  her  enemy  —  and,  now  she  protests 
she  is  delighted  because  our  throats  were  not  all  cut  last 
night.  We  are  safe  enough  for  the  day  I  think,  and  not 
another  night  shall  one  of  you  pass  in  the  Hut,  if  I  can  have 
my  way.  If  there  be  such  a  thing  as  desertion,  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  evacuation  also." 

"  Hugh  ! — What  can  you,  do  you  mean  !  Remember,  we 
are  surrounded  by  a  wilderness." 

"  I  know  our  position  reasonably  well,  wife  of  mine,  and 
intend  to  turn  that  knowledge  to  some  account,  God  willing, 
and  aiding.  I  mean  to  place  old  Hugh  Willoughby  by  the 
side  of  Xenophon  and  Washington,  and  let  the  world  see 
what  a  man  is  capable  of,  on  a  retreat,  when  he  has  such  a 
wife,  two  such  daughters,  and  a  grandson  like  that,  on  his 
hands.  As  for  Bob,  I  would  not  have  him  here,  on  any 
account.  The  young  dog  would  run  away  with  half  the 
glory." 

The  ladies  were  too  delighted  to  find  their  father  and 
husband  in  such  spirits,  to  be  critical,  and  all  soon  after  sat 
down  to  an  early  breakfast,  to  eat  with  what  appetite  they 
could. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Yet  I  well  remember 

The  favours  of  these  men  :  were  they  not  mine  ? 
Did  they  not  sometimes  cry,  all  hail !  to  me  ? 
So  Judas  did  to  Christ :  but  he,  in  twelve 
Found  truth  in  all  but  one ;  I  in  twelve  thousand  none. 

Richard  II. 

THAT  which  captain  Willoughby  had  said  in  seeming 
pleasantry  he  seriously  meditated.  The  idea  of  passing 
another  night  in  the  Hut,  supported  by  only  six  men,  with 
more  than  ten  times  that  number  besieging  him,  and  with 
all  the  secrets  of  his  defences  known,  through  the  disaffec 
tion  of  his  retainers,  was,  to  the  last  degree,  painful  to  him. 
Had  his  own  life,  alone,  been  at  risk,  military  pride  might 
have  tempted  him  to  remain ;  but  his  charge  was  far  too 
precious  to  be  exposed  on  account  of  considerations  so  vain. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  87 

No  sooner,  therefore,  was  the  breakfast  over,  than  the 
captain  summoned  Joyce  to  a  consultation  on  the  contem 
plated  movement.  The  interview  took  place  in  the  lihrary, 
whither  the  scrjrant  repaired,  <>n  receiving  his  superior's 
orders.  As  to  the  parly  without,  no  apprehension  was  felt, 
so  long  as  the  sentinels 'were  even  moderately  vigilant,  and 
the  day  lasted. 

"I  suppose,  serjeant,"  commenced  captain  Willoughby, 
"  a  soldier  of  your  experience  is  not  to  be  taught  what  is  the 
next  resort  of  a  commanding  officer,  when  he  finds  himself 
unable  to  make  good  his  ground  against  his  enemy  in 
front?" 

"  It  is  to  retreat,  your  honour.  The  road  that  cannot  be 
passed,  must  be  turned." 

"  You  have  judged  rightly.  It  is  now  my  intention  to 
evacuate  the  Hut,  and  to  try  our  luck  on  a  march  to  the 
rear.  A  retreat,  skilfully  executed,  is  a  creditable  thing; 
and  any  step  appears  preferable  to  exposing  the  dear  beings 
in  the  other  room  to  the  dangers  of  a  night  assault." 

Joyce  appeared  struck  with  the  suggestion  ;  though,  if  one 
might  have  judged  from  the  expression  of  his  countenance, 
far  from  favourably.  He  reflected  a  moment  ere  he  an 
swered. 

"  Did  your  honour  send  for  me,"  he  then  inquired,  "to 
issue  orders  for  this  retreat,  or  was  it  your  pleasure  to  hear 
anything  I  might  have  to  say  about  it  ?" 

"The  last  —  I  shall  give  no  orders,  until  I  know  your 
opinion  of  the  measure." 

"  It  is  as  much  the  duty  of  an  inferior  to  speak  his  mind 
freely,  when  he  is  called  for  art  opinion,  captain  Willoughby, 
is  to  obey  in  silence,  when  he  gets  nothing  but  orders. 
According  to  my  views  of  the  matter,  we  shall  do  better  to 
stand  our  ground,  and  try  to  make  good  the  house  against 
these  vagabonds,  than  to  trust  to  the  woods." 

"  Of  course  you  have  your  reasons  for  this  opinion, 
Joyce?" 

"  Certainly,  your  honour.  In  the  first  place,  I  suppose  it 
lo  be  against  the  rules  of  the  art  of  war  to  evacuate  a  place 
that  is  well  provisioned,  without  standing  an  assault.  This 
we  have  not  yet  done.  It  is  true,  sir,  tnat  our  ranks  are 
thinned  by  desertions ;  but  I  never  heard  of  a  garrisoned 


88  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

town,  or  a  garrisoned  house,  capitulating  on  account  of  a 
few  deserters ;  and,  I  take  it,  evacuation  is  only  the  next 
step  before  capitulation." 

"  But  our  desertions,  Joyce,  have  not  been  few,  but  many. 
Three  times  as  many  have  left  us,  if  we  include  *.vir  other 
losses,  as  remain.  It  matters  not  whence  the  loss  proceeds, 
so  long  as  it  is  a  loss." 

"  A  retreat,  with  women  and  baggage,  is  always  a  ticklish 
operation,  your  honour,  especially  if  an  enemy  is  pressing 
your  rear  !  Then  we  have  a  wilderness  before  us,  and  the 
ladies  could  hardly 'hold  out  for  so  long  a  march  as  that 
from  this  place  to  the  Mohawk ;  short  of  which  river  they 
will  hardly  be  as  safe  as  they  are  at  present." 

"  I  have  had  no  such  march  in  view,  Joyce.  You  know 
there  is  a  comfortable  hut,  only  a  mile  from  this  very  spot 
on  the  mountain  side,  where  we  commenced  a  clearing  for 
a  sheep-pasture,  only  three  summers  since.  The  field  is  in 
rich  grass  ;  and,  could  we  once  reach  the  cabin,  and  manage 
to  drive  a  cow  or  two  up  there,  we  might  remain  a  month 
in  security.  As  for  provisions  and  clothes,  we  could  carry 
enough  on  our  backs  to  serve  us  all  several  weeks ;  espe* 
cially  if  assisted  by  the  cows." 

"  I  'm  glad  your  honour  has  thought  of  this  idea,"  said 
the  serjeant,  his  face  brightening  as  he  listened ;  «« it  will  be 
a  beautiful  operation  to  fall  back  on  that  position,  when  we 
can  hold  out  no  longer  in  this.  The  want  of  some  such 
arrangement  has  been  my  only  objection  to  this  post,  cap 
tain  Willoughby ;  for,  we  have  always  seemed  to  me,  out 
here  in  the  wilderness,  like  a  regiment  drawn  up  with  a 
ravine  or  a  swamp  in  its  rear." 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  relishing  the  movement  for  any 
cause,  serjeant.  It  is  my  intention  at  present  to  make  the 
necessary  arrangements  to  evacuate  the  Hut,  while  it  is 
light ;  and,  as  soon  as  it  is  dark,  to  retreat  by  the  gates,  the 

palisades,  and  the  rivulet How  now,  Jamie?  You  look 

as  if  there  were  news  to  communicate?" 

Jamie  Allen,  in  truth,  had  entered  at  that  instant  in  so 
much  haste  as  to  have  overlooked  the  customary  ceremony 
of  sending  in  his  name,  or  even  of  knocking. 

"  News !"  repeated  the  mason,  with  a  sort  of  wondering 
smile ;  '  and  it 's  just  that  I  've  come  to  bring.  Wad  ye 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  89 

think  it,  baiih,  gentlemen,  that  our  people  are  in  their  ain 
cahins  ag'in,  boiling  tlu-ir  pots,  and  frying  their  pork,  a'  the 
same  as  it"  tin-  valley  was  in  ;i  state  of  tranquillity,  and  we 
so  many  lairds  waiting  lor  them  to  come  and  do  our  plea 
sure  !"  ' 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  Jamie  —  whom  do  you  mean 
by  'our  people  T  " 

44  Sure,  just  the  desairters ;  Joel,  and  the  miller,  and  Mi- 
rhael,  and  the  rest." 

44  And  the  cabins  —  and  the  pots  —  and  the  pork  —  it  is 
gibberish  to  m<-.'' 

44 1  hae  what  ye  English  ca'  an  aiccent,  I  know ;  but,  in 
my  judgment,  captain  Willoughby,  the  words  may  be  com- 
pn-hrnded  without  a  dictionary.  It's  just  that  Joel  Strides, 
and  Daniel  the  miller,  and  the  rest  o'  them  that  fleed,  the 
past  night,  have  gane  into  their  ain  abodes,  and  have  lighted 
thi-ir  fnvs,  and  put  over  their  pots  and  kettles,  and  set  up 
their  domestic  habitudes,  a'  the  same  as  if  this  Beaver  Dam 
was  ain  o'  the  pairks  o'  Lonnon  !" 

44  The  devil  they  have !  Should  this  be  the  case,  serjeant, 
our  sortie  may  be  made  at  an  earlier  hour  than  that  men 
tioned.  I  iii'vi-r  will  submit  to  such  an  insult." 

Captain  Willoughby  was  too  much  aroused  to  waste  many 
words;  and,  sfi'/.ing  his  hat,  he  proceeded  forthwith  to  take 
a  look  for  himself.  The  stage,  or  gallery  on  the  roofs,  offer- 
ing  the  best  view,  in  a  minute  he  and  his  two  companions 
were  on  it. 

44  There ;  ye  Ml  be  seein'  a  smoke  in  Joel's  habitation, 
with  your  own  een  ;  and,  yon  is  anithcr,  in  the  dwelling  of 
his  cousin  Seth,"  said  Jamie,  pointing  in  the  direction  he 
named. 

44  Smoke  there  is,  of  a  certainty ;  but  the  Indians  may 
have  lighted  fires  in  the  kitchen,  to  do  their  own  cooking. 
This  looks  like  investing  us,  serjeant,  rather  more  closely 
than  the  fellows  have  done  before." 

44 1  rather  think  not,  your  honour — Jamie  is  righ'.,  or  my 
eyes  do  not  know  a  man  from  a  woman.  That  is  certainly 
a* female  in  the  garden  of  Joel,  and  I  '11  engage  it's  Phoebe, 
pulling  onions  for  his  craving  stomach,  the  scourdrel !" 

Captain  Willoughby  never  rn«vrd  without  his  little  glas?, 
and  it  was  soon  levelled  at  the  object  mentioned. 
8* 


90  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"By  Jupiter,  you  are  right,  Joyce"  —  he  cried.  "It  is 
Phoebe,  though  the  hussy  is  coolly  weeding,  not  culling  the 
onions  !  Ay  —  and  now  I  see  Joel  himself!  The  rascal  is 
examining  some  hoes,  with  as  much  philosophy  as  if  he 
were  master  of  them,  and  all  near  them.  This  is  a  most 
singular  situation  to  be  in !" 

This  last  remark  was  altogether  just.  The  situation  of 
those  in  the  Hut  was  now  singular  indeed.  Further  exami 
nation  showed  that  every  cabin  had  its  tenant,  no  one  of  the 
party  that  remained  within  the  palisades  being  a  householder. 
By  using  the  glass,  and  pointing  it,  in  succession,  at  the 
different  dwellings,  the  captain  in  due  time  detected  the  pre 
sence  of  nearly  every  one  of  the  deserters.  Not  a  man  of 
them  all,  in  fact,  was  missing,  Mike  alone  excepted.  There 
they  were,  with  their  wives  and  children,  in  quiet  possession 
of  their  different  habitations.  Nor  was  this  all ;  the  business 
of  the  valley  seemed  as  much  on  their  minds  as  had  been 
their  practice  for  years.  Cows  were  milked,  the  swine  were 
fed,  poultry  was  called  and  cared  for,  and  each  household 
was  also  making  the  customary  preparations  for  the  morn 
ing  meal. 

So  absorbed  was  the  captain  with  this  extraordinary  scene, 
that  he  remained  an  hour  on  the  staging,  watching  the  course 
of  events.  The  breakfasts  were  soon  over,  having  been 
later  than  common,  and  a  little  hurried ;  then  commenced 
the  more  important  occupations  of  the  day.  A  field  was 
already  half  ploughed,  in  preparation  for  a  crop  of  winter 
grain  ;  thither  Joel  himself  proceeded,  with  the  necessary 
cattle,  accompanied  by  the  labourers  who  usually  aided  him 
in  that  particular  branch  of  husbandry.  Three  ploughs 
were  soon  at  work,  with  as  much  regularity  and  order  as 
if  nothing  had  occurred  to  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  the 
valley.  The  axes  of  the  wood-choppers  were  next  heard, 
coming  out  of  the  forest,  cutting  fuel  for  the  approaching 
winter ;  and  a  half-finished  ditch  had  its  workmen  also, 
who  were  soon  busy  casting  up  the  soil,  and  fashioning 
their  trench.  In  a  word,  all  the  suspended  toil  was  renewed 
with  perfect  system  and  order. 

"  This  beats  the  devil  himself,  Joyce  !"  said  the  captain, 
after  a  half-hour  of  total  silence.  "  Here  are  all  these  fel 
lows  at  work  as  coolly  as  if  I  had  just  given  them  their 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  91 

tasks,  and  twice  a*  diligently.  Their  unusual  industry  is  a 
bad  symptom  of  it- 

"Your  honour  will  remark  one  circumstance.  Not  a 
rascal  of  them  all  comes  uithin  the  fair  range  of  a  musket  ; 
fur,  as  to  throwing  away  ammunition  at  such  distance^,  it 
would  be  clearly  unmilitary,  and  might  be  altogether  use- 
less." 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  scatter  them  with  a  volley" — said 
the  captain,  doubtingly.  "  Bullets  would  take  effect  among 
those  ploughmen,  could  they  only  be  made  to  hit." 

"  And  amang  the  cattle,  too,"  observed  the  Scotsman, 
who  had  an  eye  on  the  more  economical  part  of  the  move 
ment,  as  well  as  on  that  which  was  military.  "  A  ball 
would  slay  a  horse  as  well  as  a  man  in  such  a  skairmish." 

"This  is  true  enough,  Jamie;  and  it  is  not  exactly  tho 
sort  of  warfare  I  could  wish,  to  be  firing  at  men  who  were 
so  lately  my  friends.  I  do  not  see,  Joyce,  that  the  rascals 
have  any  arms  with  them?" 

"  Not  a  musket,  sir.  I  noticed  that,  when  Joel  first  de 
tailed  his  detachments.  Can  it  be  possible  that  the  savages 
have  retired?" 

M  Not  they;  else  would  Mr.  Strides  and  his  friends  have 
gone  with  them.  No,  serjeant,  there  is  a  deep  plan  to  lead 
us  into  some  sort  of  ambush  in  this  affair,  and  we  will  be  on 
the  look-out  for  them." 

Joyce  stood  contemplating  the  scene  for  some  time,  in 
profound  silence,  when  he  approached  the  captain  formally, 
and  made  the  usual  military  salute;  a  ceremony  he  had 
punctiliously  observed,  on  all  proper  occasions,  since  the 
garrison  might  be  said  to  be  placed  under  martial  law. 

"  If  it's  your  honour's  pleasure,"  he  said,  "  F  will  detail 
a  detachment,  and  go  out  and  bring  in  two  or  three  of  th«-o; 
deserters;  by  which  means  we  shall  get  into  their  secrets." 

UA  detachment,  Joyce!"  answered  the  captain,  eyeing 
his  subordinate  a  little  curiously  —  "What  trcops  do  you 
propose  to  tell-off  for  the  service?" 

"Why,  your  honour,  there's  corporal  Allen  and  old 
Pliny  off  duty;  I  think  the  tiling  mi.uht  be  done  with  them, 
it*  yuur  honour  would  have  the  condescension  to  order  cor 
poral  Blodgc-t,  with  the  two  other  blacks,  to  form  as  a  sup 
porting  party,  under  the  cover  of  one  of  the  fences." 


92  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  A  disposition  of  my  force  that  would  leave  captain  WiU 
loughby  for  a  garrison  !  I  thank  you,  serjeant,  for  your  offer 
and  gallantry,  but  prudence  will  not  permit  it.  We  may 
set  down  Strides  and  his  companions  as  so  many  knaves, 
and " 

"  That  may  ye !"  cried  Mike's  well-known  voice,  from 
the  scuttle  that  opened  into  the  garrets,  directly  in  front  of 
which  the  two  old  soldiers  were  conversing  —  "That  may 
ye,  and  no  har-r-m  done  the  trut',  or  justice,  or  for  that 
matther,  meself.  Och  !  If  I  had  me  will  of  the  blackguards, 
every  rogue  of  'em  should  be  bound  hand  and  fut  and  laid 
under  that  pratthy  wather-fall,  yon  at  the  mill,  until  his  sins 
was  washed  out  of  him.  Would  there  be  confessions  then  ? 
— That  would  there  ;  and  sich  letting  out  of  sacrets  as  would 
satisfy  the  conscience  of  a  hog!" 

By  the  time  Mike  had  got  through  this  sentiment  he  was 
on  the  staging,  where  he  stood  hitching  up  his  nether  gar 
ment,  with  a  meaning  grin  on  his  face  that  gave  a  peculiar 
expression  of  heavy  cunning  to  the  massive  jaw  and  capa 
cious  mouth,  blended  with  an  honesty  and  good-nature  that 
the  well-meaning  fellow  was  seldom  without  when  he  ad 
dressed  any  of  the  captain's  family.  Joyce  glanced  at  the 
captain,  expecting  orders  to  seize  the  returned  run-away ; 
but  his  superior  read  at  once  good  faith  in  the  expression  of 
his  old  retainer's  countenance. 

"You  have  occasioned  us  a  good  deal  of  surprise,  O'Hearn, 
on  more  accounts  than  one,"  observed  the  captain,  who 
thought  it  prudent  to  assume  more  sternness  of  manner  thap 
his  feelings  might  have  actually  warranted.  "  You  have 
not  only  gone  off  yourself,  but  you  have  suffered  your  pri 
soner  to  escape  with  you.  Then  your  manner  of  getting 
into  the  house  requires  an  explanation.  I  shall  hear  what 
you  have  to  say  before  I  make  up  my  mind  as  to  your  con 
duct." 

"  Is  it  spake  I  will  ? — That  will  I,  and  as  long  as  it  plase 
yer  honour  to  listen.  Och  !  Isn't  that  Saucy  Nick  a  quare 
one  ?  Divil  burn  me  if  I  thinks  the  likes  of  him  is  to  be 
found  in  all  Ameriky,  full  as  it  is  of  Injins  and  saucy  fel 
lies  !  Well,  now,  I  suppose,  sarjeant,  ye  've  set  me  down 
as  stnriding  off  with  Misther  Joel  and  his  likes,  if  ye  was  to 
open  yer  heart,  and  spake  yer  thrue  mind  ?" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  93 

"  You  have  bocn  marked  tor  a  deserter,  O'Hearn,  and 
one,  too,  that  deserted  from  post/' 

"Post!  Had  I  bc»  ii  that,  1  shouldn't  have  stirred,  and 
ye'd  !>••  wanting  in  the  news  I  bring  ye  from  the  Majjor, 
ii ml  .Mr.  Woods,  and  the  savages,  and  the  rest  of  the  var 
mints." 

11  .My  son  !  —  Is  this  possible,  Michael  ?  Have  you  seen 
him,  or  can  you  tell  us  anything  of  his  state?" 

Mike  now  assumed  a  manner  of  mysterious  importance, 
laying  a  finger  on  his  nose,  and  pointing' towards  the  sentinel 
and  Jamie. 

"  It 's  the  sarjeant  that  I  considers  as  one  of  the  family," 
said  the  county  Leitrim-man,  when  his  pantomime  was 
through,  "but  it  isn't  dacent  to  be  bawling  out  saen  is 
through  a  whole  nighbourhood ;  and  then,  as  for  Ould 
Nick  —  or  Saucy  Nick,  or  whatever  yc  calls  him  —  Och  ! 
isn't  he  a  pratthy  Injin  !  Ye  '11  mar-r-ch  t'rough  Ameriky, 
and  never  see  his  ai<]iiel  !" 

"  This  will  never  do,  O'Hearn.  Whatever  you  have  to 
say  must  be  said  clearly,  and  in  the  simplest  manner.  Fol 
low  to  the  library,  where  I  will  hear  your  report.  Joyce, 
you  will  accompany  us." 

"  Let  him  come,  if  he  wishes  to  hear  wonderful  achaive- 
ments !"  answered  Mike,  making  way  for  the  captain  to 
descend  the  steps ;  then  following  himself,  talking  as  he 
went.  "He'll  niver  brag  of  his  campaigns  ag'in  to  the 
likes  of  me,  seeing  that  I  've  outdone  him,  ten  —  ay,  forty 
.  and  boot.  Och  !  that  Nick  's  a  divil,  and  no  har-r-m 
said  !" 

"  In  the  first  place,  O'Hearn,"  resumed  the  captain,  as 
soon  as  the  three;  wore  alone  in  the  library  —  "you  must 
explain  your  own  desertion." 

"  Me  ! — De.sirt !  Sure,  it  isn't  run  away  from  yor  honour, 
and  the  Missus,  and  Miss  Beuly,  and  pratthy  Miss  Maud, 
and  the  child,  that's  yer  honour's  m'anin^  .'" 

This  was  said  with  so  much  nature  and  truth,  that  the 
captain  had  not  the  heart  to  repeat  the  question,  though 
Joyce's  more  drilled  feelings  were  less  moved.  The  first  even 
felt  a  tear  springing  to  his  eye,  and  he  no  longer  distrusted 
the  Irishman's  fidelity,  as  unaccountable  as  his  conduct  did 
and  must  seem  to  his  cooler  judgment.  But  Mike's  seasi- 


94  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

tiveness  had  taken  the  alarm,  and  it  was  only  to  be  appeased 
by  explanations. 

"  Yer  honour's  not  sp'aking  when  I  questions  ye  on  that 
same?"  he  resumed,  doubtingly. 

"  Why,  Mike,  to  be  sincere,  it  did  look  a  little  suspicious 
when  you  not  only  went  off  yourself,  but  you  let  the  Indian 
go  off  with  you." 

"  Did  it?"— said  Mike,  musing—"  No,  I  don't  allow  that, 
seein'  that  the  intent  and  object  was  good.  And,  then,  I 
never  took  the  Injin'wid  me;  but  'twas  I,  meself,  that  went 
wid  Azm." 

"  I  rather  think,  your  honour,"  said  Joyce,  smiling,  "  we'll 
put  O'Hearn's  name  in  its  old  place  on  the  roster,  and  make 
no  mark  against  him  at  pay-day." 

"  I  think  it  will  turn  out  so,  Joyce.  We  must  have  pa 
tience,  too,  and  let  Mike  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way." 

"  Is  it  tell  a  story,  will  I  ?  Ah  ! — Nick  's  the  cr'ature  for 
that  same !  See,  he  has  given  me  foor  bits  of  sticks,  every 
one  of  which  is  to  tell  a  story,  in  its  own  way.  This  is  the 
first ;  and  it  manes  let  the  captain  into  the  sacret  of  your 
retrait ;  and  how  you  got  out  of  the  windie,  and  how  you 
comes  near  to  breaking  yer  neck  by  a  fall  becaase  of  the 
fut's  slipping ;  and  how  ye  wint  down  the  roof  by  a  rope, 
the  divil  a  bit  fastening  it  to  yer  neck,  but  houlding  it  in  yer 
hand  with  sich  a  grip  as  if  'twere  the  fait'  of  the  church 
itself;  and  how  Nick  led  ye  to  the  hole  out  of  which  ye 
bot'  wint,  as  if  ye  had  been  two  cats  going  t'rough  a  door !" 

Mike  stopped  to  grin  and  look  wise,  as  he  recounted  the 
manner  of  the  escape,  the  outlines  of  which,  however,  were 
sufficiently  well  known  to  his  auditors  before  he  began. 

"  Throw  away  that  stick,  now,  and  let  us  know  where 
this  hole  is,  and  what  you  mean  by  it." 

"  No" — answered  Mike,  looking  at  the  stick,  in  a  doubt 
ing  manner — "  I  '11  not  t'row  it  away,  wld  yer  honour's  Pave, 
'till  I  've  told  ye  how  we  got  into  the  brook,  forenent  the 
forest,  and  waded  up  to  the  woods,  where  we  was  all  the 
same  as  if  we  had  been  two  bits  of  clover  tops  hid  in  a  hay 
mow.  That  Nick  is  a  cr'ature  at  consailment !" 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  captain,  patiently,  knowing  that  there 
was  no  use  in  hurrying  one  of  Mike's  peculiar  mode  of 
communicating  his  thoughts.  "  What  came  next  ?" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  95 

"  That  will  I ;  and  the  r'ason  comes  next,  as  is  seen  by 
this  oder  stick.  And,  so,  Nick  and  mcself  was  in  the  chap 
lain's  room  all  alone,  and  n'ither  of  us  had  any  mind  to 
dhrink;  Nick  becaase  he  was  a  prisoner  and  ll-lt  crass,  and 
full  of  dignity  like;  and  meself  becaase  I  was  a  sentinel; 
and  sarjeant  Joyce,  there,  had  tould  me,  the  Lord  knows 
how  often,  that  if  I  did  my  duty  well,  I  might  come  to  be  a 
corporal,  which  was  next  in  rank  to  himself;  barring,  too, 
that  I  was  a  sentinel,  and  a  drunken  sentinel  is  a  disgrace 
to  a  man,  sowl  and  body,  and  musket." 

"  And  so  neither  of  you  drank  ?" — put  in  the  captain,  by 
way  of  a  reminder. 

"  For  that  same  r'ason,  and  one  betther  still,  as  we  had 
nothin'  to  dhrink.  Well,  says  Nick  — '  Mike,'  says  he  — 
1  you  like  cap'in,  and  Missus,  and  Miss  Beuly,  and  Miss 
Maud,  and  the  babby ?'  *  Divil  burn  ye,  Nick,'  says  I,  'why 
do  ye  ask  so  foolish  a  question  ?  Is  it  likes  ye  would  know? 
Well  —  then  just  ask  yerself  if  you  likes  yer  own  kith  and 
kin,  and  ye  've  got  yer  answer.' " 

"  And  Nick  made  his  proposal,  on  getting  this  answer," 
interrupted  the  captain,  "  which  was " 

'•  Here  it  is,  on  the  stick.  '  Well,'  says  Nick,  says  he — 
*  run  away  wid  Nick,  and  see  Majjor ;  bring  back  news. 
Nick  cap'in  friend,  but  cap'in  don't  know  it — won't  believe1 
— Fait',  I  can't  tell  yer  honour  all  Nick  said,  in  his  own 
manner ;  and  so,  wid  yer  1'ave,  I  Ml  just  tell  it  in  my  own 
way." 

"  Any  way,  Mike,  so  that  you  do  but  tell  it." 

"  Nick 's  a  cr'ature  !  His  idee  was  for  us  two  to  get  out 
of  the  windie,  and  up  on  the  platform,  and  to  take  the  bed- 
cord,  and  other  things,  and  slide  down  upon  the  ground  — 
and  we  did  it !  As  sure  as  yer  honour  and  the  sarjeant  is 
there,  we  did  that  same,  and  no  bones  broke !  *  Well,'  says 
I,  «  Nick,  ye 're  here,  sure  enough,  but  how  do  you  mane  to 
get  out  of  here?  Is  it  climb  the  palisades  ye  will,  and  be 
shot  by  a  sentinel  ?' — if  there  was  one,  which  there  wasn't, 
yer  honour,  seeing  that  all  had  run  away — *  or  do  ye  mane 
to  stay  here,'  says  I,  'and  be  taken  a  prisoner  of  war  ag'in, 
in  which  case  ye '11  be  two  prisoners,  seein'  that  ye 've  been 
taken  wonst  already,  will  ye  Nick  ?'  says  I.  So  Nick  never 
spoke,  but  he  held  up  his  finger,  and  made  a  sign  for  me  to 


96  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

follow,  as  follow  I  did ;  and  we  just  crept  through  the  pa 
lisade,  and  a  mhighty  phratty  walk  we  had  of  it,  alang  the 
meadies,  and  t'rough  the  lanes,  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"  You  crept  through  the  palisades,  Mike  !  There  is  no 
outlet  of  sufficient  size." 

"  I  admits  the  hole  is  a  tight  squaze,  but  'twill  answer. 
And  then  it's  just  as  good  for  an  inlet  as  it  is  for  an  outlet, 
seein'  that  I  came  t'rough  it  this  very  marnin'.  Och  !  Nick's 
acr'ature!  And  how  d'ye  think  that  hole  comes  there, 
barring  all  oversights  in  setting  up  the  sticks?" 

"  It  has  not  been  made  intentionally,  I  should  hope, 
O'Hearn?" 

"  'Twas  made  by  Joel,  and  that  by  just  sawing  off  a  post, 
and  forcin'  out  a  pin  or  two,  so  that  the  palisade  works 
like  a  door.  Och  !  it 's  nately  contrived,  and  it  manes  mis 
chief." 

"  This  must  be  looked  to,  at  once,"  cried  the  captain ; 
"  lead  the  way,  Mike,  and  show  us  the  spot." 

As  the  Irishman  was  nothing  loth,  all  three  were  soon  in 
the  court,  whence  Mike  led  the  way  through  the  gate,  round 
to  the  point  where  the  stockade  came  near  the  cliffs,  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  buildings.  This  was  the  spot  where  the 
path  that  led  down  to  the  spring  swept  along  the  defences, 
and  was  on  the  very  route  by  which  the  captain  contem 
plated  retreating,  as  well  as  on  that  by  which  Maud  had 
entered  the  Hut,  the  night  of  the  invasion.  At  a  convenient 
place,  a  palisade  had  been  sawed  off,  so  low  in  the  ground 
that  the  sods,  which  had  been  cut  and  were  moveable,  con 
cealed  the  injury,  while  the  heads  of  the  pins  that  ought  to 
have  bound  the  timber  to  the  cross-piece,  were  in  their  holes, 
leaving  everything  apparently  secure.  On  removing  the 
sods,  and  pushing  the  timber  aside,  the  captain  ascertained 
that  a  man  might  easily  pass  without  the  stockade.  As  this 
corner  was  the  most  retired  within  the  works,  there  was  no 
longer  any  doubt  that  the  hole  had  been  used  by  all  the  de 
serters,  including  the  women  and  children.  In  what  manner 
it  became  known  to  Nick,  however,  still  remained  matter 
of  conjecture.  • 

Orders  were  about  to  be  given  to  secure  this  passage, 
when  it  occurred  to  the  captain  it  might  possibly  be  of  use 
in  effecting  his  own  retreat.  With  this  object  in  view,  then, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  07 

he  hastened  away  from  the  place,  lest  any  wandering  eye 
without  might  detect  his  {manioc  near  it,  and  conjecture  the 
cans.-.  On  returning  to  the  library,  the  examination  of  Mike 
u;ts  ivsmiK.ul. 

As  the  reader  must  be  greatly  puzzled  with  the  county 
Lrii  run-man's  manner  of  expressing  himself,  we  shall  relate 
the  substance  of  what  he  now  uttered,  for  the  sake  of  bre 
vity.  It  would  seem  that  Nick  had  succeeded  in  persuading 
Mike,  first,  that  he,  the  Tuscarora,  was  a  fast  friend  of  the 
captain  and  his  family,  confined  by  the  former,  in  conse 
quence  of  a  misconception  of  the  real  state  of  the  Indian's 
feelings,  much  to  the  detriment  of  all  their  interests ;  and 
that  no  better  service  could  be  rendered  the  Willoughbys 
than  to  let  Nick  depart,  and  for  the  Irishman  to  go  with 
him.  Mike,  however,  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  desertion, 
the  motive  which  prevailed  on  him  to  quit  the  Hut  being  a 
desire  to  see  the  major,  and,  if  possible,  to  help  him  escape. 
As  soon  as  this  expectation  was  placed  before  his  eyes,  Mike 
became  a  convert  to  the  Indian's  wishes.  Like  ail  exceed 
ingly  zealous  men,  the  Irishman  had  an  itching  propensity 
to  be  doing,  and  he  was  filled  with  a  sort  of  boyish  deliirht 
at  the  prospect  of  effecting  a  great  service  to  those  whom  he 
so  well  loved,  without  their  knowing  it.  Such  was  the  his 
tory  of  Michael's  seeming  desertion  ;  that  of  what  occurred 
after  he  quitted  the  works  remains  to  be  related. 

The  Tuscarora  led  his  companion  out  of  the  Hut,  within 
half  an  hour  after  they  had  been  left  alone  together,  in  the 
room  of  Mr.  Woods.  As  this  was  subsequently  to  Joel's 
fliirht,  Nick,  in  anticipation  of  this  event,  chose  to  lie  in 
ambush  a  short  time,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  the  de- 
fi-rtion  was  likely  to  go  any  further.  Satisfied  on  this  head, 
In-  quietly  retired  towards  tho  mill.  After  making  a  sufficient 
ditonr  to  avoid  being  seen  from  the  house,  Nick  gave  him 
self  no  trouble  about  getting  into  the  woods,  or  of  practising 
any  of  the  expedients  of  a  time  of  real  danger,  as  had  been 
done  by  all  of  the  deserters ;  but  he  walked  leisurely  across 
the  meadows,  until  he  struck  the  highway,  along  which  he 
proceeded  forthwith  to  the  rocks.  All  this  was  done  in  a 
way  that  showed  he  felt  himself  at  home,  and  that  he  had 
no  apprehensions  of  falling  into  an  ambush.  It  might  have 
arisen  from  his  familiarity  with  the  ground;  or,  it  might 
VOL.  II.  —  9 


98  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

have  proceeded  from  the  consciousness  that  he  was  ap 
proaching  friends,  instead  of  enemies. 

At  the  rocks,  however,  Nick  did  not  deem  it  wise  to  lead 
Mike  any  further,  without  some  preliminary  caution.  The 
white  man  was  concealed  in  one  of  the  clefts,  therefore, 
while  the  Indian  pursued  his  way  alone.  The  latter  was 
absent  an  hour ;  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  returned,  and, 
after  giving  Mike  a  great  many  cautions  about  silence  and 
prudence,  he  led  him  to  the  cabin  of  the  miller,  in  the  buttery 
of  which  Robert  Willoughby  was  confined.  To  this  buttery 
there  was  a  window ;  but,  as  it  was  so  small  as  to  prevent 
escape,  no  sentinel  had  been  placed  on  the  outside  of  the 
building.  For  his  own  comfort,  too,  and  in  order  to  possess 
his  narrow  lodgings  to  himself,  the  major  had  given  a  species 
of  parole,  by  which  he  was  bound  to  remain  in  duresse, 
until  the  rising  of  the  next  sun.  Owing  to  these  two  causes, 
Nick  had  been  enabled  to  approach  the  window,  and  to  hold 
communications  with  the  prisoner.  This  achieved,  he  re 
turned  to  the  rocks,  and  led  Mike  to  the  same  spot. 

Major  Willoughby  had  not  been  able  to  write  much, 
in  consequence  of  the  darkness.  That  which  he  communi 
cated,  accordingly,  had  to  pass  through  the  fiery  ordeal  of 
the  Irishman's  brains.  As  a  matter  of  course  it  did  not 
come  with  particular  lucidity,  though  Mike  did  succeed  in 
making  his  auditors  comprehend  this  much. 

The  major  was  substantially  well  treated,  though  intima 
tions  had  been  given  that  he  would  be  considered  as  a  spy. 
Escape  seemed  next  to  impossible  ;  still,  he  should  not  easily 
abandon  the  hope.  From  all  he  had  seen,  the  party  was 
one  of  that  irresponsible  character  that  would  render  capitu 
lation  exceedingly  hazardous,  and  he  advised  his  father  to 
hold  out  to  the  last.  In  a  military  point  of  view,  he  consi 
dered  his  captors  as  contemptible,  being  without  a  head  ; 
though  many  of  the  men  —  the  savages  in  particular  —  ap 
peared  to  be  ferocious  and  reckless.  The  whole  party  was 
guarded  in  discourse,  and  little  was  said  in  English,  though 
he  was  convinced  that  many  more  whites  were  present  than 
he  had  at  first  believed.  Mr.  Woods  he  had  not  seen,  nor 
did  he  '•-now  anything  of  his  arrest  or  detention. 

This  much  Mike  succeeded  in  making  the  captain  com 
prehend,  though  a  great  deal  was  lost  through  the  singular 


THE     IIUTTED     KNOLL.  99 

confusion  that  prevailed  in  the  mind  of  the  messenger.  Mike, 
however,  IKK!  still  (uoot her  communication,  which  we  reserve 
for  the  ears  of  the  person  to  whom  it  was  especially  sent. 

This  news  produced  a  pause  in  captain  Willoughby's  de 
termination.  Some  of  the  lire  of  youth  awoke  within  him, 
and  he  debated  witii  himself  on  the  possibility  of  making  a 
sortie,  and  of  liberating  his  son,  as  a  step  preliminary  to 
victory;  or,  at  least,  to  a  successful  retreat.  Acquainted 
with  every  foot  of  the  ground,  which  had  singular  facilities 
for  a  step  so  bold,  the  project  found  favour  in  his  eyes  each 
minute,  and  soon  became  fixed. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

'*  Another  love 

In  its  lone  woof  began  to  twine; 
But,  ah  !  the  golden  thread  was  wove 
That  bound  my  sister's  heart  in  mine  !" 

WILLIS. 
« 

WHILE  the  captain  and  Joyce  were  digesting  their  plans, 
Mike  proceeded  on  an  errand  of  peculiar  delicacy  with  which 
he  had  been  entrusted  by  Robert  Willoughby.  The  report 
that  he  had  returned  flew  through  the  dwellings,  and  many 
were  the  hearty  greetings  and  shakings  of  the  hand  that  tho 
honest  fellow  had  to  undergo  from  the  Plinys  and  Smashes, 
ere  he  was  at  liberty  to  set  about  the  execution  of  this  trust. 
The  wenches,  in  particular,  having  ascertained  that  Mike 
had  not  broken  his  fast,  insisted  on  his  having  a  comfortable 
meal,  in  a  sort  of  servants'  hall,  before  they  would  con>i-nt 
to  his  quitting  their  sight.  As  the  county  Leitrim-man  was 
singularly  ready  with  a  knife  and  fork,  he  made  no  very 
determined  opposition,  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  he  was  hare 
at  work,  discussing  a  cold  ham,  with  the  other  collaterals 
of  a  substantial  American  breakfast. 

The  blacks,  the  Smashes  inclusive,  had  been  seriously 
alarmed  at  t'ie  appearance  of  the  invading  party.  Between 
them  and  the  whole  family  of  red-men  there  existed  a  sort 
of  innate  dislike ;  an  antipathy  that  originated  in  colour,  and 


100  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

wool,  and  habits,  and  was  in  no  degree  lessened  by  appre 
hensions  on  the  score  of  scalps. 

"  How  you  look,  ole  Plin,  widout  wool?"  Big  Smash  had 
reproachfully  remarked,  not  five  minutes  before  Mike  made 
his  appearance  in  the  kitchen,  in  answer  to  some  apologetic 
observation  of  her  husband,  as  to  the  intentions  of  the  . 
savages  being  less  hostile  than  he  had  at  first  imagined  ; 
"  why  you  say  dey  no  murder,  and  steal  and  set  fire,  when 
you  know  dey's  Injin  !  Natur'  be  natur' ;  and  dat  I  hear 
dominie  Woods  say  t'ree  time  one  Sunday.  What  'e  dominie 
say  often,  he  mean,  and  dere  no  use  in  saying  dey  don't 
come  to  do  harm." 

As  Great  Smash  was  an  oracle  in  her  own  set,  there  was 
no  gainsaying  her  dogmas,  and  Pliny  the  elder  was  obliged 
to  succumb.  But  the  presence  of  Mike,  one  who  was  under 
stood  to  have  been  out,  near,  if  not  actually  in,  the  enemy's 
camp,  and  a  great  favourite  in  the  bargain,  was  a  circum 
stance  likely  to  revive  the  discourse.  In  fact,  all  the  negroes 
crowded  into  the  hall,  as  soon  as  the  Irishman  was  seated 
at  table,  one  or  two  eager  to  talk,  the  rest  as  eager  to  listen. 

"How  near  you  been, to  sabbage,  Michael?"  demanded 
Big  Smash,  her  two  large  coal-black  eyes  seeming  to  open 
in  a  degree  proportioned  to  her  interest  in  the  answer. 

"  I  wint  as  nigh  as  there  was  occasion,  Smash,  and  that 
was  nigher  than  the  likes  of  yer  husband  there  would  be 
thinking  of  travelling.  Maybe  'twas  as  far  as  from  my 
plate  here  to  yon  door;  maybe  not  quite  so  far.  They're 
a  dhirty  set,  and  I  wish  to  go  no  nearer." 

"  What  dey  look  like,  in  'e  dark?"  inquired  Little  Smash 
— "  Awful  as  by  daylight  ?" 

"  It's  not  meself  that  stopped  to  admire  'em.  Nick  and 
I  had  our  business  forenent  us,  and  when  a  man  is  hurried, 
it  isn't  r'asonable  to  suppose  he  can  kape  turning  his  head 
about  to  see  sights." 

"  What  dey  do  wid  Misser  Woods  ? — What  sabbage  want 
wid  dominie?" 

"  Sure  enough,  little  one ;  and  the  question  is  of  yer  own 
asking.  A  praist,  even  though  he  should  be  only  a  heretic, 
can  have  no  great  call  for  his  sarvices,  in  sick  a  congrega 
tion.  And,  I  don't  think  the  fellows  are  blackguards  enough 
f.o  scalp  a  parson." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  101 

Then  followed  a  flood  of  incoherent  questions  that  wcro 
put  by  all  the  blacks  in  a  body,  accompanied  by  divers  looks 
ominous  of  tin-  most  serious  disasters,  blended  with  bursts 
of  laughter  that  broke  out  of  their  risible  natures  in  a  way 
to  render  the  medley  of  sensations  as  ludicrous  as  it  was 
strange.  Mike  soon  found  answering  a  task  too  diilicult  to 
be  attempted,  and  he  philosophically  came  to  a  determina 
tion  to  confine:  his  efforts  to  masticating. 

Notwithstanding  the  terror  that  actually  prevailed  among 
the  blacks,  it  was  not  altogether  unmixed  with  a  resolution 
to  die  with  arms  in  their  hands,  in  preference  to  yielding  to 
savage  clemency.  Hatred,  in  a  measure,  supplied  the  place 
of  courage,  though  both  sexes  had  insensibly  imbibed  some 
of  that  resolution  which  is  the  result  of  habit,  and  of  which 
a  border  life  is  certain  to  instil  more  or  less  into  its  subjects, 
in  a  form  suited  to  border  emergencies.  Nor  was  this  feel 
ing  confined  to  the  men  ;  the  two  Smashes,  in  particular, 
'being  women  capable  of  achieving  acts  that  would  be  thought 
heroic  under  circumstances  likely  to  arouse  their  feelings. 

"  Now,  Smashes,"  said  Mike,  when,  by  his  own  calcula 
tion,  he  had  about  three  minutes  to  the  termination  of  his 
breakfast  before  him,  "ye '11  do  what  I  tells  ye,  and  no 
questions  asked.  Ye '11  find  the  laddies,  Missus,  and  Miss 
P.euly,  and  Mi>s  Maud,  and  ye '11  give  my  humble  respects 
to  'em  all — divil  the  bit,  now,  will  ye  be  overlooking  eithei 
of  the  t'ree,  but  ye '11  do  ycr  errand  genteely  and  like  a 
laddy  yerself — and  ye '11  give  my  jcwty  and  respects  to  'em 
a//,  I  tells  ye,  and  say  that  Michael  O'Hearn  asks  the  ho 
nour  of  being  allowed  to  wish  'em  ^ood  morning." 

Little  Smash  screamed  at  this  message ;  yet  she  went, 
forthwith,  and  delivered  it,  making  reasonably  free  with 
Michael's  manner  and  gallantry  in  so  doiiiLr. 

"O'Hearn  has  something  to  tell  us  from  Rol>ert"  —  -aM 
Mrs.  Willoughby,  who  had  been  made  acquainted  with  tho 
Irishman's  exploits  and  return ;  "  he  must  be  suffered  to 
come  in  as  soon  as  he  desires." 

With  this  reply,  Little  Smash  terminated  her  mission. 
"  And   now,   laddies   and   gentlemen,"   said    Mike,  with 
gravity,  as  lie  rose  to  quit  the  servants'  hall,  "my  blessing 
and  good  wishes  be  wid  ye.     A  hearty  male  have  I  had  at 
yer  hands  and  yer  cookery,  and  good  thanks  it  desarvos. 
9* 


102  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

As  for  the  Injins,  jist  set  yer  hearts  at  rest,  as  not  one  of 
ye  will  be  scalp'd  the  day,  seeing  that  the  savages  are  all  to 
be  fbrenent  the  mill  this  morning,  houlding  a  great  council, 
as  I  knows  from  Nick  himself.  A  comfortable  time,  then, 
ye  may  all  enjoy,  wid  yer  heads  on  yer  shoulters,  and  yer 
wool  on  yer  heads." 

Mike's  grin,  as  he  retreated,  showed  that  he  meant  to  be 
facetious,  having  all  the  pleasantry  that  attends  a  full  sto 
mach  uppermost  in  his  animal  nature  at  that  precise  moment. 
A  shout  rewarded  this  sally,  and  the  parties  separated  with 
mutual  good  humour  and  good  feeling.  In  this  state  of 
mind,  the  county  Leitrim-man  was  ushered  into  the  presence 
of  the  ladies.  A  few  words  of  preliminary  explanations 
were  sufficient  to  put  Mike  in  the  proper  train,  when  he 
came  at  once  to  his  subject. 

"  The  majjor  is  no  way  down-hearted,"  he  said,  "  and  he 
ordered  me  to  give  his  jewty  and  riverence,  and  obligations, 
to  his  honoured  mother  and  his  sisters.  '  Tell  'em,  Mike,' 
says  he,  says  the  majjor,  '  that  I  feels  for  'em,  all  the  same 
as  if  I  was  their  own  fader ;  and  tell  'em,'  says  he,  '  to  keep 
up  their  spirits,  and  all  will  come  right  in  the  ind.  This  is 
a  throublesome  wor-r-ld,  but  they  that  does  their  jewties  to 
God  and  man,  and  the  church,  will  not  fail,  in  the  long 
run,  to  wor-r-k  their  way  t'rough  purgatory  even,  into  para 
dise.'  " 

"  Surely  my  son  —  my  dear  Robert — never  sent  us  such 
a  message  as  this,  Michael  ?" 

"  Every  syllable  of  it,  and  a  quantity  moor  that  has  slipped 
my  memory,"  answered  the  Irishman,  who  was  inventing, 
but  who  fancied  he  was  committing  a  very  pious  fraud  — • 
"  'Twould  have  done  the  Missuses  heart  good  to  have  listen 
ed  to  the  majjor,  who  spoke  more  in  the  charac&ter  of  a 
praist,  like,  than  in  that  of  a  souldier." 

All  three  of 'the  ladies  looked  a  little  abashed,  though 
there  was  a  gleam  of  humour  about  the  mouth  of  Maud, 
that  showed  she  was  not  very  far  from  appreciating  the 
Irishman's  report  at  its  just  value.  As  for  Mrs.  Willoughby 
and  Beulah,  less  acquainted  with  Mike's  habits,  they  did  not 
so  readily  penetrate  his  manner  of  substituting  his  own  de 
sultory  thoughts  for  the  ideas  of  others. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  103 

"  As  I  am  better  acquainted  with  Mike's  language,  dear 
mother"  —  whispered  Maud  —  "  {>erhaps  it  will  be  well  if  I 
take  him  into  the  library  and  question  him  a  little  between 
ourselves  about  what  actually  passed.  Depend  on  it,  I  shall 
get  the  truth." 

"  Do,  my  child,  for  it  really  pains  me  to  hear  Robert  so 
much  misrepresented  —  and,  as  Evert  must  now  begin  to 
!<leas,  I  really  do  not  like  that  his  uncle  should  be  so 
placed  before  the  dear  little  fellow's  mind." 

Maud  did  not  even  smile  at  this  proof  of  a  grandmother's 
weakness,  though  she  felt  and  saw  all  its  absurdity.  Heart 
was  ever  so  much  uppermost  with  the  excellent  matron, 
that  it  was  not  easy  for  those  she  loved  to  regard  anything 
but  her  virtues ;  and  least  of  all  did  her  daughter  presume 
to  indulge  in  even  a  thought  that  was  ludicrous  at  her  ex 
pense.  Profiting  by  the  assent,  therefore,  Maud  quietly 
made  a  motion  for  Mike  to  follow,  and  proceeded  at  once  to 
the  room  she  had  named. 

Not  a  word  was  exchanged  between  the  parties  until  both 
were  in  the  library,  when  Maud  carefully  closed  the  door, 
her  face  pale  as  marble,  and  stood  looking  inquiringly  at  her 
companion.  The  reader  will  understand  that,  Mr.  Woods  and 
Joyce  excepted,  not  a  soul  at  the  Hut,  out  of  the  limits  of 
the  Willoughby  connection,  knew  anything  of  our  heroine's 
actual  relation  to  the  captain  and  his  family.  It  is  true, 
some  of  the  oldest  of  the  blacks  had  once  some  vague  no 
tions  on  the  subject;  but  their  recollections  had  become 
obscured  by  time,  and  habit  was  truly  second  nature  with 
all  of  the  light-hearted  race. 

"  That  was  mighty  injanious  of  you,  Miss  Maud  !"  Mike 
commenced,  giving  one  of  his  expressive  grins  again,  and 
fairly  winking.  "  It  shows  how  fri'nds  wants  no  spache  but 
their  own  minds.  Barrin'  mistakes  and  crass-accidents,  I  'm 
sartain  that  Michael  O'Hearn  can  make  himself  understood 
any  day  by  Miss  Maud  Willoughby,  an'  niver  a  word  said." 

"  Your  success  then,  Mike,  will  be  greater  at  dumb-show 
than  it  always  is  with  your  tongue,"  answered  the  young 
lady,  the  blood  slowly  returning  to  her  cheek,  the  accidental 
use  of  the  name  of  Willoughby  removing  the  apprehension 
of  anything  immediately  embarrassing  ;  "  what  have  you  to 
tell  me  that  you  suppose  I  have  anticipated  ?" 


104  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Sure,  the  like  o'  yees  needn't  be  tould,  Miss  Maud,  that 
the  majjor  bad  me  spake  to  ye  by  yerself,  and  say  a  word 
that  was  not  to  be  overheerd  by  any  one  else." 

"  This  is  singular — extraordinary  even — but  let  me  know 
more,  though  the  messenger  be  altogether  so  much  out 
of  the  common  v/ay  !" 

"  I  t'ought  ye  'd  say  that,  when  ye  come  to  know  me.  Is 
it  meself  that's  a  messenger?  and  where  is  there  another 
that  can  carry  news  widout  spilling  any  by  the  way  ?  Nick's 
a.  cr'ature,  I  allows ;  but  the  majjor  know'd  a  million  times 
bhetter  than  to  trust  an  Injin  wid  sich  a  jewty.  As  for  Joel, 
and  that  set  of  vagabonds,  we  '11  grind  'em  all  in  the  mill, 
before  we've  done  wid  'em.  Let  'em  look  for  no  favours, 
if  they  wishes  no  disapp'intment." 

Maud  sickened  at  the  thought  of  having  any  of  those  sa 
cred  feelings  connected  with  Robert  Willoughby  that  she 
had  so  long  cherished  in  her  inmost  heart,  rudely  probed  by 
so  unskilful  a  hand;  though  her  last  conversation  with  the 
young  soldier  had  told  so  much,  even  while  it  left  so  much 
unsaid,  that  she  could  almost  kneel  and  implore  Mike  to  be 
explicit.  The  reserve  of  a  woman,  notwithstanding,  taught 
her  how  to  preserve  her  sex's  decorum,  and  to  maintain 
appearances. 

"  If  major  Willoughby  desired  you  to  communicate  any 
thing  to  me,  in  particular,"  she  said,  with  seeming  compo 
sure,  "  I  am  ready  to  hear  it." 

"  Divil  the  word  did  he  desire,  Miss  Maud,  for  everything 
was  in  whispers  between  us,  but  jist  what  I  'm  about  to 
repait.  And  here 's  my  stick,  that  Nick  tould  me  to  kape 
as  a  reminderer;  it's  far  bhetter  for  me  than  a  book,  as  I 
can't  read  a  syllable.  '  And  now,  Mike,'  says  the  majjor, 
says  he,  4  conthrive  to  see  phratty  Miss  Maud  by  her 
self " 

"  Pretty  Miss  Maud !"  interrupted  the  young  lady,  invo 
luntarily. 

"  Och  !  it 's  meself  that  says  that,  and  sure  there 's  plenty 
of  r'ason  for  it ;  so  we  '11  agree  it 's  all  right  and  proper— 
"  phratty  Miss  Maud  by  herself,  letting  no  mortal  else  know 
what  you  are  about.  That  was  the  majjor's." 

"  It  is  very  extraordinary !  —  Perhaps  it  will  be  better, 
Michael,  if  you  tell  me  nothing  but  what  is  strictly  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  105 

major's.     A  message  should  be  delivered  as  nearly  like  the 
words  that  were  actually  sent  as  possible." 

k>  \Vi.r-r-ds  !  —  And  it  isn't  wor-r-ds  at  all,  that  I  have  to 
give  ye." 

"If  not  a  mexsaue  in  words,  in  what  else  can  it  be?  — 
Xot  in  sticks,  surely." 

••  In  tlniT — cried  .Mike,  exultingly — "and,  I'll  warrant, 
when  the  trut'  comes  out,  that  very  little  bit  of  silver  will  bo 
found  as  good  as  forty  Injin  scalps." 

Although  Mike  put  a  small  silver  snuff-box  that  Maud  at 
once  recognised  as  Robert  Willoughby's  property  into  the 
young  lady's  hand,  nothing  was  more  apparent  than  the 
circumstance  that  he  was  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  true 
meaning  of  what  he  was  doing.  The  box  was  very  beauti 
ful,  and  his  mother  and  Beulah  had  often  laughed  at  the 
major  for  using  an  article  that  was  then  deemed  tic  r lift/cur 
for  a  man  of  extreme  ton,  when  all  his  friends  knew  ho 
never  touched  snuff.  So  far  from  using  the  stimulant, 
nidi •(•(!,  he  never  would  show  how  the  box  was  opened,  a 
se.-ret  spring  existing;  and  he  even  manifested  or  betrayed 
shyness  on  the  subject  of  suffering1  either  of  his  sisters  to 
vaivh  for  the  means  of  doing  so. 

The  moment  Maud  saw  the  box,  her  heart  beat  tumultu- 
ously.  She  had  a  presentiment  that  her  fate  was  about  to 
be  decided.  Still,  she  had  sufficient  self-command  to  make 
an  effort  to  learn  all  her  companion  had  to  communicate. 

"  Major  Willoughby  gave  you  this  box,"  she  said,  her 
voice  trembling  in  spite  of  herself.  "Did  he  send  any  me,. 
sage  with  it?  Recollect  yourself;  the  words  may  be  very 
important." 

"  Is  it  the  wor-r-ds  ?    Well,  it 's  little  or  them  that  p 
between  us,   barrin'  that  the  Injins  was  so  near  by,  that  it 
was  whisper  we  did,  and  not  a  bit  else." 

"  Still  there  must  have  been  some  message." 

"Ye  are  as  wise  as  a  sarpent,  Miss  Maud,  as  Father 
O'Loony  used  to  tell  us  all  of  a  Sunday !  Was  it  wor-r-ds  ! — 
'  (Jive  that  to  Miss  Maud,'  says  the  majjor,  says  he,  *  and 
tell  her  she  is  now  mist/ircss  of  mi/  sat 

"  Did  he  say  this,  Michael  ?  —  For  heaven's  sake,  be  cer 
tain  of  what  -you  tell  me." 


106  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"Irish  Mike  —  Masser  want  you  in  monstrous  hurry," 
cried  the  youngest  of  the  three  black  men,  thrusting  his 
glistening  lace  into  the  door,  announcing  the  object  of  the 
intrusion,  and  disappearing  almost  in  the  same  instant. 

"  Do  not  leave  me,  O'Hearn,"  said  Maud,  nearly  gasping 
for  breath,  "  do  not  leave  me  without  an  assurance  there  is 
no  mistake." 

"  Divil  bur-r-n  me  if  I  'd  brought  the  box,  or  the  message, 
or  anything  like  it,  phretty  Miss  Maud,  had  I  t'ought  it  would 
have  done  this  har-r-m." 

"  Michael  O'Hearn,"  called  the  serjeant  from  the  court, 
in  his  most  authoritative  military  manner,  and  that  on  a  key 
that  would  not  brook  denial. 

Mike  did  not  dare  delay  ;  in  half  a  minute  Maud  found 
herself  standing  alone,  in  the  centre  of  the  library,  holding 
the  well-known  snuff-box  of  Robert  Willoughby  in  her  little 
hand.  The  renowned  caskets  of  Portia  had  scarcely  excited 
more  curiosity  in  their  way  than  this  little  silver  box  of  the 
major's  had  created  in  the  mind  of  Maud.  In  addition  to  his 
playful  evasions  about  letting  her  and  Beulah  pry  into  its 
mysteries,  he  had  once  said  to  herself,  in  a  grave  and  feel 
ing  manner,  "  When  you  get  at  the  contents  of  this  box, 
dear  girl,  you  will  learn  the  great  secret  of  my  life."  These 
words  had  made  a  deep  impression  at  the  time  —  it  was  in 
his  visit  of  the  past  year  —  but  they  had  been  temporarily 
forgotten  in  the  variety  of  events  and  stronger  sensations 
that  had  succeeded.  Mike's  message,  accompanied  by  the 
box  itself,  however,  recalled  them,  and  Maud  fancied  that 
the  major,  considering  himself  to  be  in  some  dangerous 
emergency,  had  sent  her  the  bauble  in  order  that  she  might 
learn  what  that  secret  was.  Possibly  he  meant  her  to  com 
municate  it  to  others.  Persons  in  our  heroine's  situation 
feel,  more  than  they  reason ;  and  it  is  possible  Maud  might 
have  come  to  some  other  conclusion  had  she  been  at  leisure, 
or  in  a  state  of  mind  to  examine  all  the  circumstances  in  a 
more  logical  manner. 

Now  she  was  in  possession  of  this  long-coveted  box  — 
coveted  at  least  so  far  as  a  look  into  its  contents  were  con 
cerned — Maud  not  only  found  herself  ignorant  of  the  secret 
by  which  it  was  opened,  but  she  had  scruples,  about  using 
the  means,  even  had  she  been  in  possession  of  them.  At 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  101 

first  she  thought  of  carrying  the  thing  to  Bculah,  and  of 
asking  if  sh«-  know  any  way  of  getting  at  the  spring;  then 
she  shrunk  from  the  exposure  that  might  possibly  attend 
such  a  step.  The  motv  >hi.'  reflected,  the  more  she  felt  con 
vinced  that  Robert  Willoughby  would  not  have  sent  her  that 
particular  box,  unless  it  were  connected  with  herself,  in 
SOUR;  way  more  than  common  ;  and  ever  since  the  conver 
sation  in  the  painting-room  she  had  seen  glimmerings  of  the 
truth,  in  relation  to  his  feelings.  These  glimmerings  too, 
had  aided  her  in  better  understanding  her  own  heart,  and  all 
her  sentiments  revolted  at  the  thought  of  having  a  witness 
to  any  explanation  that  might  relate  to  the  subject.  In  every 
event  she  determined,  after  a  few  minutes  of  thought,  not  to 
speak  of  the  message,  or  the  present,  to  a  living  soul. 

In  this  condition  of  mind,  filled  with  anxiety,  pleasing 
doubts,  apprehensions,  shame,  and  hope,  all  relieved,  how 
ever,  by  the  secret  consciousness  of  perfect  innocence,  and 
motives  that  angels  might  avow,  Maud  stood,  in  the  very 
spot  where  Mike  had  left  her,  turning  the  box  in  her  hands, 
when  accidentally  she  touched  the  spring,  and  the  lid  flew 
open.  To  glance  at  the  contents  was  an  act  so  natural  and 
involuntary  as  to  anticipate  reflection. 

Nothing  was  visible  but  a  piece  of  white  paper,  neatly 
folded,  and  compressed  into  the  box  in  a  way  to  fill  its  in- 
terior.  "Bob  has  written,"  thought  Maud  —  "Yet  how 
could  he  do  this?  He  was  in  the  dark,  and  had  not  pen  or 
paper !"  Another  look  rendered  this  conjecture  still  more 
improbable,  as  it  showed  the  gilt  edge  of  paper  of  the  quality 
used  for  notes,  an  article  equally  unlikely  to  be  found  in  the 
mill  and  in  his  own  pocket.  "  Yet  it  must  be  a  note,"  passed 
through  her  mind,  "and  of  course  it  was  written  before  he 
left  the  Hut  —  quite  likely  before  he  arrived  —  possibly  the 
year  before,  when  he  spoke  of  the  box  as  containing  tlio 
evidence  of  the  irrcat  secret  of  his  life." 

Maud  now  wished  for  Mike,  incoherent,  unintelligible, 
and  blundering  as  he  was,  that  she  might  question  him  still 
further  as  to  the  precise  words  of  the  message.  "  Possibly 
Bob  did  not  intend  me  to  open  the  box  at  all,"  she  thought, 
"  and  meant  merely  that  I  should  keep  it  until  he  could 
return  to  claim  it.  It  contains  a  great  secret ;  and,  because 
he  wishes  to  keep  this  secret  from  the  Indians,  it  does  not 


108  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

follow  that  he  intends  to  reveal  it  to  me.  I  will  shut  the 
box  again,  and  guard  his  secret  as  I  would  one  of  my 
own." 

This  was  no  sooner  thought  than  it  was  done.  A  pressure 
of  the  lid  closed  it,  and  Maud  heard  the  snap  of  the  spring 
with  a  start.  Scarcely  was  the  act  performed  ere  she 
repented  it.  "  Bob  would  not  have  sent  the  box  without 
some  particular  object,"  she  went  on  to  imagine ;  "  and  had 
he  intended  it  not  to  be  opened,  he  would  have  told  as  much 
to  O'Hearn.  How  easy  would  it  have  been  for  him  to  say, 
and  for  Mike  to  repeat,  '  tell  her  to  keep  the  box  till  I  ask 
for  it  —  it  contains  a  secret,  and  I  wish  my  captors  not  to 
learn  it.'  No,  he  has  sent  the  box  with  the  design  that  1 
should  examine  its  contents.  His  very  life  may  depend  on 
my  doing  so;  yes,  and  on  my  doing  so  this  minute  !" 

This  last  notion  no  sooner  glanced  athwart  our  heroine's 
mind,  than  she  began  diligently  to  search  for  the  hidden 
spring.  Perhaps  curiosity  had  its  influence  on  the  eagerness 
to  arrive  at  the  secret,  which  she  now  manifested ;  possibly 
a  tenderer  and  still  more  natural  feeling  lay  concealed  be 
hind  it  all.  At  any  rate,  her  pretty  little  fingers  never  were 
employed  more  nimbly,  and  not  a  part  of  the  exterior  of  the 
box  escaped  its  pressure.  Still,  the  secret  spring  eluded  her 
search.  The  box  had  two  or  three  bands  of  richly  chased 
work  on  each  side  of  the  place  of  opening,  and  amid  these 
ornaments  Maud  felt  certain  that  the  little  projection  she 
sought  must  lie  concealed.  To  examine  these,  then,  she 
commenced  in  a  regular  and  connected  manner,  resolved 
that  not  a  single  raised  point  should  be  neglected.  Accident, 
however,  as  before,  stood  her  friend ;  and,  at  a  moment 
when  she  least  expected  it,  the  lid  flew  back,  once  more 
exposing  the  paper  to  view. 

Maud  had  been  too  seriously  alarmed  about  re-opening 
the  box,  to  hesitate  a  moment  now,  as  to  examining  its  con 
tents.  The  paper  was  removed,  and  she  began  to  unfold  it 
slowly,  a  slight  tremor  passing  through  her  frame  as  she 
did  so.  For  a  single  instant  she  paused  to  scent  the  delight 
ful  and  delicate  perfume  that  seemed  to  render  the  interior 
$acred ;  then  her  fingers  resumed  their  office.  At  each  in 
stant,  her  eyes  expected  to  meet  Robert  Willoughby's  well- 
known  hand-writing.  But  the  folds  of  the  paper  opened  on 


j 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  109 

a  blank.  To  Maud's  surprise,  and,  for  a  single  exquisitely 
painful  moment,  .sin-  saw  that  a  lock  of  hair  was  all  the  box 
contained,  bouirs  the  JKI[MT  in  which  it  was  enveloped.  I  K-r 
leok  Ixvame  anxious,  and  her  face  pale;  then  the  eyes 
brightened,  and  a  blush  that  might  well  be  likened  to  the 
tints  with  which  the  approach  of  dawn  illumines  the  sky, 
suliused  her  checks,  as,  holding  the  hair  to  the  light,  the 
li.ng  ringlets  dropped  at  length,  and  she  recognised  one  of 
those  beautiful  tresses,  of  which  so  many  were  falling  at 
that  very  moment,  in  rich  profusion  around  her  own  lovely 
laci-.  To  unloosen  her  hair  from  the  comb,  and  to  lay  the 
secret  of  Bob  Willoughby  by  its  side,  in  a  way  to  compare 
the  glossy  shades,  was  the  act  of  only  a  moment ;  it  sufficed, 
however,  to  bring  a  perfect  conviction  of  the  truth.  Jt  was  a 
memorial  of  herself,  then,  that  Robert  Willoughby  so  prized, 
had  so  long  guarded  with  care,  and  which  he  called  the  se 
cret  of  his  life ! 

It  was  impossible  for  Maud  not  to  understand  all  this. 
Robert  Willoughby  loved  her;  he  had  taken  this  mode  of 
telling  his  passion.  He  had  been  on  the  point  of  doing  this 
in  words  the  very  day  before ;  and  now  he  availed  himself 
of  the  only  means  that  offered  of  completing  the  tale.  A 
Hood  of  tenderness  gushed  to  the  heart  of  Maud,  as  she 
passed  over  all  this  in  her  mind  ;  and,  from  that  moment, 
she  ceased  to  feel  shame  at  the  recollection  of  her  own  at 
tachment.  She  might  still  have  shrunk  a  little  from  avowing 
it  to  her  father,  and  mother,  and  Bculah  ;  but,  as  to  herself, 
the  world,  and  the  object  of  her  affections,  she  now  stood 
perfectly  vindicated  in  her  own  eyes. 

That  was  a  precious  half-hour  which  succeeded.  For  the 
moment,  all  present  dangers  were  lost  siuht  of,  in  the  glow 
of  future  hopes.  .Maud's  imagination  portrayed  scenes  of 
happiness,  in  which  domestic  duties,  Bob  beloved,  almost 
worshipped,  and  her  father  and  mother  happy  in  the  felicity 
of  iheir  children,  were  the  prominent  features  ;  while  Bculah 
and  little  Evert  filled  the  back-ground  of  the  picture  in  co 
lours  of  pleasing  softness.  But  the>e  were  illusions  that 
rould  not  last  for  ever,  the  fearful  realities  of  her  situation 
returning  with  the  urealer  consciousness  of  existence.  Still, 
Bob  might  now  be  loved,  without  wounding  any  of  the  sen- 

VoL.lI.— 10 


HO  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

sitiveness  of  her  sex's  opinions ;  and  dearly,  engrossingly, 
passionately  was  he  rewarded,  for  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  thought  of  letting  her  know  the  true  state  of  his  heart, 
at  a  moment  when  he  had  so  much  reason  to  think  only  of 
himself. 

It  was  time  for  Maud  to  return  to  her  mother  and  sister. 
The  box  was  carefully  concealed,  leaving  the  hair  in  its  old 
envelope,  and  she  hurried  to  the  nursery.  On  entering  the 
room,  she  found  that  her  father  had  just  preceded  her.  The 
captain  was  grave,  more  thoughtful  than  usual,  and  his  wife, 
accustomed  to  study  his  countenance  for  so  much  of  her 
happiness,  saw  at  once  that  something  lay  heavy  on  his 
mind. 

"  Has  anything  out  of  the  way  happened,  Hugh  ?"  she 
asked,  "  to  give  you  uneasiness  ?" 

Captain  Willoughby  drew  a  chair  to  the  side  of  that  of 
his  wife,  seated  himself,  and  took  her  hand  before  he  an 
swered.  Little  Evert,  who  sat  on  her  knee,  was  played 
with,  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  defer  a  disagreeable  duty ;  not 
till  then  did  he  even  speak. 

"  You  know,  dearest  Wilhelmina,"  the  captain  finally 
commenced,  "  that  there  have  never  been  any  concealments 
between  us,  on  the  score  of  danger,  even  when  I  was  a  pro 
fessed  soldier,  and  might  be  said  to  carry  my  life  in  my 
hand." 

"  You  have  ever  found  me  reasonable,  I  trust,  while  feel 
ing  like  a  woman,  mindful  of  my  duty  as  a  wife?" 

"I  have,  love;  this  is  the  reason  I  have  always  dealt 
with  you  so  frankly." 

"  We  understand  each  other,  Hugh.  Now  tell  me  the 
worst  at  once." 

"  I  am  not  certain  you  will  think  there  is  any  worst  about 
it,  Wilhelmina, -as  Bob's  liberty  is  the  object.  I  intend  to 
go  out  myself,  at  the  head  of  all  the  white  men  that  remain, 
in  order  to  deliver  him  from  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  This 
will  leave  you,  for  a  time  —  six  or  seven  hours,  perhaps  — 
in  the  Hut,  with  only  the  three  blacks  as  a  guard,  and  with 
the  females.  You  need  have  no  apprehension  of  an  assault, 
however,  everything  indicating  a  different  intention  on  the 
part  of  our  enemies ;  on  that  score  you  may  set  your  hearts 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  Ill 

"  All  my  apprehensions  mid  prayers  will  be  for  you,  my 
husband  —  for  ourselves,  \\<-  rap-  not." 

"  This  I  expected  ;  it  is  to  lessen  these  very  apprehensions 
that  I  have  come  to  tell  you  my  whole  plan." 

Captain  \VilIoughby  now  related,  with  some  minuteness, 
; -stance  of  Mike's  report,  and  his  own  plan,  of  the 
last  of  which  we  have  already  given  an  outline.     Every 
thing  had  been  well  matured  in  his  mind,  and  all  promi«  I 
success.     The  men  were  apprised  of  the  service  on  which 
they  were  to  be  employed,  and  every  one  of  them  had  mani- 
the  best  spirit.     They  were  then  busy  in  equipping 
tin -mselvcs ;  in  half  an  hour  they  would  be  ready  to  march. 

To  all  this  Mrs.  Willoujrhby  listened  like  a  soldier's  wife, 
accustomed  to  the  risks  of  a  frontier  warfare,  though  she 
felt  like  a  woman.  Beulah  pressed  little  Evert  to  her  heart, 
while  her  pallid  countenance  was  turned  to  her  father  with 
a  look  that  seemed  to  devour  every  syllable.  As  for  Maud, 
a  strange  mixture  of  dread  and  wild  delight  were  blended  in 
her  bosom.  To  have  Bob  liberated,  and  restored  to  them, 
was  approaching  perfect  happiness,  though  it  surpassed  her 
powers  not  to  dread  misfortunes.  Nevertheless,  the  captain 
IP  clear  in  his  explanations,  so  calm  in  his  manner,  and 
of  a  judgment  so  approved,  that  his  auditors  felt  far  less 
concern  than  might  naturally  have  been  expected. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"  March — march — march  ! 
M;ikin£  sounds  as  they  tread, 
Ho-ho  !  how  they  step, 
Going  down  to  the  dead." 

COXE. 

THE  time  Maud  consumed  in  her  meditations  over  thn 
box  and  its  contents,  had  been  employed  by  the  captain  in 
preparations  for  his  enterprise.  Joyce,  young  Blodgct,  Jamie 
nnd  Mike,  led  by  their  commander  in  person,  were  to  com 
pose  the  whole  force  on  the  occasion ;  and  every  man  had 
been  busy  in  getting  his  arms,  ammunition  and  provisions 


112  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

ready,  for  the  last  half-hour.  When  captain  Willoughby, 
therefore,  had  taken  leave  of  his  family,  he  found  the  party 
in  a  condition  to  move. 

The  first  great  desideratum  was  to  quit  the  Hut  unseen. 
Joel  and  his  followers  were  still  at  work,  in  distant  fields ; 
but  they  all  carefully  avoided  that  side  of  the  Knoll  which 
would  have  brought  them  within  reach  of  the  musket,  and 
this  left  all  behind  the  cliff  unobserved,  unless  Indians  were 
in  the  woods  in  that  direction.  As  Mike  had  so  recently 
passed  in  by  that  route,  however,  the  probability  was  the 
whole  party  still  remained  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  mills, 
where  all  accounts  agreed  in  saying  they  mainly  kept.  It 
was  the  intention  of  the  captain,  therefore,  to  sally  by  the 
rivulet  and  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  to  gain  the  woods 
under  cover  of  the  bushes  on  the  banks  of  the  former,  as 
had  already  been  done  by  so  many  since  the  inroad. 

The  great  difficulty  was  to  quit  the  house,  and  reach  the 
bed  of  the  stream,  unseen.  This  step,  however,  was  a  good 
deal  facilitated  by  means  of  Joel's  sally-port,  the  overseer 
having  taken,  himself,  all  the  precautions  against  detection 
of  which  the  case  well  admitted.  Nevertheless,  there  was 
the  distance  between  the  palisades  and  the  base  of  the  rocks, 
some  forty  or  fifty  yards,  which  was  entirely  uncovered, 
and  had  to  be  passed  under  the  notice  of  any  wandering 
eyes  that  might  happen  to  be  turned  in  that  quarter.  After 
much  reflection,  the  captain  and  serjeant  came  to  the  con 
clusion  to  adopt  the  following  mode  of  proceeding. 

Blodget  passed  the  hole,  by  himself,  unarmed,  rolling 
down  the  declivity  until  he  reached  the  stream.  Here  a 
thicket  concealed  him  sufficiently,  the  bushes  extending 
along  the  base  of  the  rocks,  following  the  curvature  of  the 
rivulet.  Once  within  these  bushes,  there  was  little  danger 
of  detection.  As  soon  as  it  was  ascertained  that  the  young 
man  was  beneath  the  most  eastern  of  the  outer  windows  of 
the  northern  wing,  the  only  one  of  the  entire  range  that  had 
bushes  directly  under  it,  all  the  rifles  were  lowered  down  to 
him,  two  at  a  time,  care  being  had  that  no  one  should  ap 
pear  at  the  window  during  the  operation.  This  was  easily 
effected,  jerks  of  the  rope  sufficing  for  the  necessary  signals 
when  to  haul  in  the  line.  The  ammunition  succeeded ;  and, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  113 

in  this  manner,  all  the  materials  of  offence  and  defence 
>uon  collected  on  the  margin  of  the  stivam. 

The  next  step  was  to  M-nd  the  men  out,  one  by  one, 
imitating  the  precautions  taken  by  Blodget.  Each  individual 
had  his  own  provisions,  and  most  of  the  men  carried  some 
sort  of  arms,  -Mich  as  a  pistol,  or  a  knife,  about  his  per 
son.  In  half  an  hour  the  four  men  were  armed,  and  waited 
for  the  leader,  concealed  by  the  bushes  on  the  border  of  the 
brook.  It  only  remained  for  captain  Willoughby  to  give 
some  instructions  to  those  he  left  in  the  Hut,  and  to  follow. 

Pliny  the  elder,  in  virtue  of  his   years,  and   some  • 

in  Indian  warfare,  succeeded  to  the  command  of  the 
garrison,  in  the  absence  of  its  chief'.  Had  there  remained  ;i 
male  white  at  the  Knoll,  this  trust  never  could  have  devolved 
on  him,  it  being  thought  contrary  to  the  laws  of  nature  for 
a  negro  to  command  one  of  the  other  colour;  but  such  was 
not  the  fact,  and  Pliny  the  elder  succeeded  pretty  much  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Notwithstanding,  he  was  to  obey  not 
only  his  particular  old  mistress,  but  both  his  young  rni.s- 
,  who  exercised  an  authority  over  him  that  was  not 
to  be  disputed,  without  doing  violence  to  all  the  received 
notions  of  the  day.  To  him,  then,  the  captain  issued  his 
final  orders,  bidding  him  be  vigilant,  and  above  all  to  keep 
the  gates  closed. 

As  soon  as  this  was  done,  the  husband  and  father  wont 
to  his  wile  and  children  to  take  a  last  embrace.  Anxious 
not  to  excite  too  strong  apprehensions  by  his  manner,  this 
was  done  affectionately — solemnly,  perhaps — but  with  a 
manner  so  guarded  as  to  effect  his  object. 

"  I  shall  look  for  no  other  signal,  or  sign  of  success, 
Hugh,"  said  the  weeping  wife,  "  than  your  own  return,  ac 
companied  by  our  dearest  boy.  When  I  can  hold  you  both 
in  my  arms,  I  shall  be  happy,  though  all  the  Indians  of  the 
continent  were  in  the  valley." 

"  Do  not  miscalculate  as  to  time,  Wilhelmina.  That 
affectionate  heart  of  yours  sometimes  travels  over  time  and 
space  in  a  way  to  give  its  owner  unnecessary  pain.  Re 
member  we  shall  have  to  proceed  with  great  caution,  both 
in  going  and  returning;  and  it  will  require  hours  to  make 
the  detour  I  have  in  view.  I  hope  to  see  you  again  before 
10* 


114  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

sunset,  but  a  delay  may  carry  us  into  the  night.  It  may 
even  become  necessary  to  defer  the  final  push  until  after 
dark." 

This  was  melancholy  intelligence  for  the  females ;  but 
they  listened  to  it  with  calmness,  and  endeavoured  to  be,  as 
well  as  to  seem,  resigned.  Beulah  received  her  father's 
kiss  and  blessing  with  streaming  eyes,  straining  little  Evert 
to  her  heart  as  he  left  her.  Maud  was  the  last  embraced. 
lie  even  led  her,  by  gentle  violence,  to  the  court,  keeping 
her  in  discourse  by  the  way,  exhorting  her  to  support  her 
mother's  spirits  by  her  own  sense  and  steadiness. 

"  I  shall  have  Bob  in  the  Hut,  soon,"  he  added,  "  and 
this  will  repay  us  all  for  more  than  twice  the  risks — all  but 
you,  little  vixen ;  for  your  mother  tells  me  you  are  getting, 
through  some  caprice  of  that  variable  humour  of  your  sex, 
to  be  a  little  estranged  from  the  poor  fellow." 

"  Father  !" 

"Oil  know  it  is  not  very  serious ;  still,  even  Beulah 
tells  me  you  once  called  him  a  Major  of  Foot." 

"  Did  1 1"  said  Maud,  trembling  in  her  whole  frame  lest 
her  secret  had  been  prematurely  betrayed  by  the  very  at 
tempt  to  conceal  it.  "  My  tongue  is  not  always  my  heart." 

"  I  know  it,  darling,  unless  where  I  am  concerned.  Treat 
the  son  as  you  will,  Maud,  I  am  certain  that  you  will  always 
love  the  father."  A  pressure  to  the  heart,  and  kisses  on 
the  forehead,  eyes,  and  cheeks  followed.  "  You  have  all 
your  own  papers,  Maud,  and  can  easily  understand  your 
own  affairs.  When  examined  into,  it  will  be  seen  that 
every  shilling  of  your  fortune  has  gone  to  increase  it;  and, 
little  hussy,  you  are  now  become  something  like  a  great 
heiress." 

"What  does  this  mean,  dearest,  dearest  father?  Your 
words  frighten, me !" 

"  They  should  not,  love.  Danger  is  never  increased  by 
being  prepared  to  meet  it.  I  have  been  a  steward,  and 
wish  it  to  be  known  that  the  duty  has  not  been  unfaith 
fully  discharged.  That  is  all.  A  hundred-fold  am  I  repaid 
by  possessing  so  dutiful  and  sweet  a  child." 

Maud  fell  on  her  father's  bosom  and  sobbed.  Never 
before  had  he  made  so  plain  allusions  to  the  true  relations 
which  existed  between  them  ;  the  papers  she  possessed  hav- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  115 

ing  spoken  for  themselves,  and  havm-/  been  given  in  silence. 
rtheless,  as  he  appeared  disposed  to  proceed  no  further, 
at  present,  the  poor  girl  struggled  to  command  herself,  sue- 
ceedcd  in  part,  :  .v«-.l  her  lather's  Benediction,  m-»-t 

solemnly  and  tenderly  delivered,  and  saw  him  depart,  with 
an   air  of  calmm>s  that  subsequently  astonished  even   h-r- 


\Ve  must  now  quit  the  interesting  group  that  was  left 
behind  in  the  Hut,  and  accompany  the  adventurers  in  their 
march. 

Captain  Willounhhy  was  obliged  to  imitate  his  men,  in 
the  Mode  df  quilting  the,  j)alisades.  He  had  dressed  himself 
in  the  American  hunting-shirt  and  trowsers  for  the  occasion; 
and,  this  being  an  attire  he  now  rarely  used,  it  greatly 
diminished  the  chances  of  his  being  recognised,  if  si  in. 
Joyce  was  in  a  similar  garb,  though  neither  Jamie  nor  Mike 
could  ever  be  persuaded  to  assume  a  style  that  both  insisted 
so  much  resembled  that  of  the  Indians.  As  for  Blodget,  he 
was  in  the  usual  dress  of  a  labourer. 

As  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  cliff,  the 
captain  let  the  fact  be  known  to  Old  Pliny,  by  using  his 
voice  with  caution,  though  sufficiently  loud  to  be  heard  on  the 
staging  of  the  roof,  directly  above  his  head.  The  black  had 
been  instructed  to  watch  Joel  and  his  companions,  in  order 
to  ascertain  if  they  betrayed,  in  their  movements,  any  con 
sciousness  of  what  was  in  progress  at  the  Hut.  The  report 
was  favourable,  Pliny  assuring  his  master  that  "  all  'e  men 
work,  sir,  just  as  afore.  Joel  hammer  away  at  plough- 
handle,  tinkerin'  just  like  heself.  Not  an  eye  turn  dis  away, 
massa." 

Encouraged  by  this  assurance,  the  whole  party  stole 
through  the  bushes,  that  lined  this  part  of  the  base  of  the 
cliffs,  until  they  entered  the  bed  of  the  stream.  It  was 
September,  and  the  water  was  so  low,  as  to  enable  the  party 
to  move  along  the  margin  of  the  rivulet  dry-shod,  occasion- 
ally  stepping  from  stone  to  stone.  The  latter  expedient, 
indeed,  was  adopted  wherever  circumstances  allowed,  with 
a  view  to  leave  as  few  traces  of  a  trail  as  was  praciicable. 
Otherwise  the  cover  was  complete;  the  winding  of  the  rivu 
let  preventing  any  distant  view  through  its  little  reache.. 
and  the  thick  fringe  of  the  bushes  on  each  bank,  effectually 


116  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

concealing  the  men  against  any  passing,  lateral,  glimpse  of 
their  movements. 

Captain  Willoughby  had,  from  the  first,  apprehended  an 
assault  from  this  quarter.  The  house,  in  its  elevation,  how 
ever,  possessed  an  advantage  that  would  not  be  enjoyed  by 
an  enemy  on  the  ground ;  and,  then,  the  cliff  offered  very 
serious  obstacles  to  anything  like  a  surprise  on  that  portion 
of  the  defences.  Notwithstanding,  he  now  led  his  men, 
keeping  a  look  riveted  on  the  narrow  lane  in  his  front,  far 
from  certain  that  each  turn  might  not  bring  him  in  presence 
of  an  advancing  party  of  the  enemy.  No  such  unpleasant 
encounter  occurred ;  and  the  margin  of  the  forest  was 
gained,  without  any  appearance  of  the  foe,  and  seemingly 
without  discovery. 

Just  within  the  cover  of  the  woods,  a  short  reach  of  the 
rivulet  lay  fairly  in  sight,  from  the  rear  wing  of  the  dwell 
ings.  It  formed  a  beautiful  object  in  the  view  ;  the  ardent 
and  tasteful  Maud  having  sketched  the  silvery  ribbon  of 
water,  as  it  was  seen  retiring  within  the  recesses  of  the 
forest,  and  often  calling  upon  others  to  admire  its  loveliness 
and  picturesque  effect.  Here  the  captain  halted,  and  made 
a  signal  to  Old  Pliny,  to  let  him  know  he  waited  for  an 
answer.  The  reply  was  favourable,  the  negro  showing  the 
sign  that  all  was  still  well.  This  was  no  sooner  done, 
than  the  faithful  old  black  hurried  down  to  his  mistress,  to 
communicate  the  intelligence  that  the  party  was  safely  in 
the  forest;  while  the  adventurers  turned,  ascended  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  and  pursued  their  way  on  more  solid  ground. 

Captain  Willoughby  and  his  men  were  now  fairly  en 
gaged  in  the  expedition,  and  every  soul  of  them  felt  the 
importance  and  gravity  of  the  duty  he  was  on.  Even  Mike 
was  fain  to  obey  the  order  to  be  silent,  as  the  sound  of  a 
voice,  indiscreetly  used,  might  betray  the  passage  of  the 
party  to  some  outlying  scouts  of  the  enemy.  Caution  was 
even  used  in  treading  on  dried  sticks,  lest  their  cracking 
should  produce  the  same  effect. 

The  sound  of  the  axe  was  heard  in  the  rear  of  the  cabins 
coming  from  a  piece  of  woodland  the  captain  had  ordered 
cleared,  with  the  double  view  of  obtaining  fuel,  and  of  in 
creasing  his  orchards.  This  little  clearing  was  near  a  quar 
ter  of  a  mile  from  the  flats,  the  plan  being,  still  to  retain  a 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  117 

belt  of  forest  round  the  latter ;  and  it  might  have  covered 
half-a-dozen  acres  of  land,  having  n<»\v  been  UM -d  lour  or 
five  years  for  the  same  purpose.  To  pass  between  this 
clearing  and  tlie  cabins  would  have  been  too  hazardous,  and 
it  became  mve>sary  to  direct  the  march  in  a  way  to  turn 

till?    former. 

The  cow-paths  answered  as  guides  for  quite  a  mile,  Mike 

being  thoroughly  acquainted  with  all  their  sinuosities.     Tho 

capiain  and  serjeant,  however,  each  carried  a  pocket  com- 

an  instrument  without  which  lew  ventured  far  into  the 

i.     Then  the  blows  of  the  axes  served  as  sounds  to 

Id  the  adventurers  know  their  relative  position,  and,  as  they 

circled  the  place  whence  they  issued,  they  gave  the  constant 

assurance  of  their  own  progress,  and  probable  security. 

The  reader  will  probably  comprehend  the  nature  of  the 
ground  over  which  our  party  was  now  marching.  The 
*  flats'  proper,  or  the  site  of  the  old  Beaver  Dam,  have 
already  been  described.  The  valley,  towards  the  south,  ter 
minated  at  the  rocks  of  the  mill,  changing  its  character  be 
low  that  point,  to  a  glen,  or  vast  ravine.  On  the  east  were 
mountains  of  considerable  height,  and  of  unlimited  range; 
to  the  north,  the  level  land  extended  miles,  though  on  a  plat 
form  many  feet  higher  than  the  level  of  the  cleared  mea 
dows;  while,  to  the  west,  along  the  route  the  adventurers 
were  marching,  broad  slopes  of  rolling  forest  spread  their 
richly-wooded  surfaces,  filled  with  fair  promise  for  the  fu 
ture.  The  highest  swell  of  this  undulating  fmvst  was  that 
nearest  t«»  the  Hut,  and  it  was  its  elevation  only  that  gave 
the  home-scene  the  character  of  a  valley. 

Captain  Willoughby's  object  was  to  gain  the  summit  of 
this  first  ridge  of  land,  which  would  serve  as  a  guide  to  his 
object,  since  it  terminated  at  the  line  of  rocks  that  made  the 
waterfall,  quite  a  mile,  however,  in  the  rear  of  the  mills. 
It  would  carry  him  also  quite  beyond  the  clearing  of  the 
wood-choppers,  and  be  effectually  turning  the  whole  of  the 
enemy's  position.  Once  at  the  precipitous  termination 
caused  by  the  face  of  rock  that  had  been  thrown  to  the  sur 
face  by  some  geological  phenomenon,  he  could  not  miss  his 
way,  since  these  rugged  marks  must  of  themselves  lead  him 
directly  to  the  station  known  to  be  occupied  by  thu  body  of 
his  foes. 


118  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

Half  an  hour  served  to  reach  the  desired  ridge,  when  the 
party  changed  its  march,  pursuing  a  direction  nearly  south, 
along  its  summit. 

"  Those  axes  sound  nearer  and  nearer,  serjeant,"  Captain 
Willoughby  observed,  after  the  march  had  lasted  a  long 
time  in  profound  silence.  "  We  must  be  coming  up  near 
the  point  where  the  men  are  at  work." 

"Does  your  honour  reflect  at  all  on  the  reason  why 
these  fellows  are  so  particularly  industrious  in  a  time  like 
this  ?  —  To  me  it  has  a  very  ambuscadish  sort  of  look  !" 

"  It  cannot  be  connected  with  an  ambuscade,  Joyce,  inas 
much  as  we  are  not  supposed  to  be  on  a  march.  There 
can  be  no  ambuscade,  you  will  remember,  practised  on  a 
garrison." 

"  I  ask  your  honour's  pardon  —  may  not  a  sortie  be  am 
bushed,  as  well  as  a  march?" 

"  In  that  sense,  perhaps,  you  may  be  right.  And,  now 
you  mention  it,  I  think  it  odd  there  should  be  so  much  in 
dustry  at  wood-chopping,  in  a  moment  like  this.  We  will 
halt  as  soon  as  the  sounds  are  fairly  abreast  of  us,  when 
you  and  I  can  reconnoitre  the  men,  and  ascertain  the  appear 
ance  of  things  for  ourselves." 

"  I  remember,  sir,  when  your  honour  led  out  two  compa 
nies  of  ours,  with  one  of  the  Royal  Irish,  a  major's  command, 
of  good  rights,  to  observe  the  left  flank  of  the  French,  the 
evening  before  we  stormed  the  enemy's  works  at  Ty — " 

"  Your  memory  is  beginning  to  fail  you,  Joyce,"  inter 
rupted  the  captain,  smiling.  "  We  were  far  from  storming 
those  works,  having  lost  two  thousand  men  before  them,  and 
failed  of  seeing  their  inside  at  all." 

"  I  always  look  upon  a  soldierly  attempt,  your  honour, 
the  same  as  a  thing  that  is  done.  A  more  gallant  stand 
than  we  made  .1  never  witnessed ;  and,  though  we  were 
driven  back,  I  will  allow,  yet  I  call  that  assault  as  good  as 
storming !" 

"Well,  have  it  your  own  way,  Joyce.  —  The  morning 
before  your  storming,  I  remember  to  have  led  out  three 
companies ;  though  it  was  more  in  advance,  than  on  either 
flank.  The  object  was  to  unmask  a  suspected  ambush." 

"  That's  just  what  I  wanted  to  be  at,  your  honour.  The 
general  sent  you,  as  an  old  captain,  with  three  companies, 


THE     IIUTTKD     KNOLL.  119 

to  spring  the  trap,  before  lie  should  put  his  own  foot 
into  it." 

"  He  certainly  did  —  and  the  movement  had  the  desired 
effect:' 

"  Bettor  and  belter,  sir.  —  I  remember  we  were  fired  on, 
and  lost  sonic  ten  or  fifteen  men,  but  I  would  not  presume 
to  say  whether  the  march  succeeded  or  not;  for  nothing 
was  said  of  the  affair,  next  day,  in  general  orders,  sir — " 

"Next  day  we  had  other  matters  to  occupy  our  minds. 
It  was  a  bloody  and  a  mournful  occasion  for  England  and 
her  colonies." 

"  Well,  your  honour,  that  does  not  affect  our  movement, 
which,  you  say,  yourself,  was  useful." 

"  Very  true,  Joyce,  though  the  great  calamity  of  the  suc 
ceeding  day  prevented  the  little  success  of  the  preceding 
morning  from  being  mentioned  in  general  orders.  But  to 
what  does  all  this  tend  ;  as  I  know  it  must  lead  to  something  ?" 

"  It  was  merely  meant  as  a  respectful  hint,  your  honour, 
that  the  inferior  should  be  sent  out,  now,  according  to  our 
own  ancient  rules,  to  reconn'itre  the  clearing,  while  the 
commander-in-chief  remain  with  the  main  body,  to  cover  the 
retreat." 

"  I  thank  you,  serjeant,  and  shall  not  fail  to  employ  you, 
on  all  proper  occasions.  At  present,  it  is  my  intention  that 
we  go  together,  leaving  the  men  to  take  breath,  in  a  suitable 
cover." 

This  satisfied  Joyce,  who  was  content  to  wait  for  orders. 
As  soon  as  the  sounds  of  the  axes  showed  that  the  party 
were  far  enough  in  advance,  and  the  formation  of  the  land 
assured  the  captain  that  he  was  precisely  where  he  wished 
to  be,  the  men  were  halted,  and  left  secreted  in  a  cover 
made  by  the  top  of  a  fallen  tree.  This  precaution  was 
taken,  k-st  any  wandering  savage  might  get  a  glimpse  of 
their  persons,  if  they  stood  lounging  about  in  the  more  open 
forest,  during  the  captain's  absence. 

This  disposition  made,  the  captain  and  serjeant,  first  ex 
amining  the  priming  of  their  pieces,  moved  with  the  neces 
sary  camion  towards  the  edge  of  the  wood-chopper's  clear 
ing-  The  axe  was  a  sufficient  guide,  and  ere  they  had  pro- 
1  far  the  light  began  to  shine  through  the  trees,  proof 
in  itself  that  they  were  approaching  an  opening  in  the  forest. 


120  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Let  us  incline  to  the  left,  your  honour,"  said  Joyce,  re 
spectfully  ;  "  there  is  a  naked  rock  hereabouts,  that  com 
pletely  overlooks  the  clearing,  and  where  we  can  get  even 
a  peep  at  the  Hut.  I  have  often  sat  on  it,  when  out  with 
the  gun,  and  wearied ;  for  the  next  thing  to  being  at  home, 
is  to  see  home." 

"  I  remember  the  place,  serjeant,  and  like  your  sugges 
tion,"  answered  the  captain,  with  an  eagerness  that  it  was 
very  unusual  for  him  to  betray.  "  I  could  march  with  a 
lighter  heart,  after  getting  another  look  at  the  Knoll,  and 
being  certain  of  its  security." 

The  parties  being  both  of  a  mind,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  each  looked  eagerly  for  the  spot  in  question.  It  was 
an  isolated  rock  that  rose  some  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  above 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  having  a  width  and  depth  about 
double  its  height — one  of  those  common  excrescences  of 
the  forest  that  usually  possess  interest  for  no  one  but  the 
geologist.  Such  an  object  was  not  difficult  to  find  in  an 
open  wood,  and  the  search  was  soon  rewarded  by  a  dis 
covery.  Bending  their  steps  that  way,  our  two  soldiers 
were  quickly  at  its  base.  As  is  usual,  the  summit  of  this 
fragment  of  rock  was  covered  with  bushes  ;  others  shooting 
out,  also,  from  the  rich,  warm  earth  at  its  base,  or,  to  speak 
more  properly,  at  its  junction  with  the  earth. 

Joyce  ascended  first,  leaving  his  rifle  in  the  captain's 
charge.  The  latter  followed,  after  having  passed  up  his 
own  and  his  companion's  arms  ;  neither  being  disposed  to 
stir  without  having  these  important  auxiliaries  at  command. 
Once  on  the  rock,  both  moved  cautiously  to  its  eastern  brow, 
care  being  had  not  to  go  beyond  the  cover.  Here  they 
stood,  side  by  side,  gazing  on  the  scene  that  was  outspread 
before  them,  through  openings  in  the  bushes. 

To  the  captain's  astonishment,  he  found  himself  within 
half  musket  shot  of  the  bulk  of  the  hostile  party.  A  regu 
lar  bivouac  had  been  formed  round  a  spring  in  the  centre 
of  the  clearing,  and  bodies  of  trees  had  been  thrown  to 
gether,  so  as  to  form  a  species  of  work  which  was  rudely, 
but  effectually  abbatied  by  the  branches.  In  a  word,  one 
of  those  strong,  rough  forest  encampments  had  been  made, 
which  are  so  difficult  to  carry  without  artillery,  more  espe 
cially  if  well  defended.  By  being  placed  in  the  centre  of 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  121 

the  clearing,  an  assault  could  not  be  made  without  exposing 
the  assailants,  and  the  spring  always  assured  to  the  gar 
rison  the  great  requisite,  water. 

There  was  a  method  and  order  in  this  arrangement  that 
surprised  both  our  old  soldiers.  That  Indians  had  resorted 
to  this  exprdient,  neither  believed;  nor  would  the  careless, 
untaught  and  inexperienced  whites  of  the  Mohawk  be  apt  to 
adopt  it,  without  a  suggestion  from  some  person  acquainted 
with  the  usages  of  frontier  warfare.  Such  persons  were  not 
difficult  to  find,  it  is  true;  and  it  was  a  proof  that  those 
claiming  to  be  in  authority,  rightfully  or  not,  were  present. 

There  was  something  unlocked  for,  also,  in  the  manner 
in  which  the  party  of  strangers  were  lounging  about,  at  a 
moment  like  that,  seemingly  doing  nothing,  or  preparing 
for  no  service.  Joyce,  who  was  a  man  of  method,  and  was 
accustomed  to  telling  off  troops,  counted  no  less  than  forty- 
nine  of  these  idlers,  most  of  whom  were  lounging  near  the 
log  entrenchment,  though  a  few  were  sauntering  about  the 
clearing,  conversing  with  the  wood-choppers,  or  making 
their  observations  listlessly,  and  seemingly  without  any 
precise  object  in  view. 

"  This  is  the  most  extr'ornary  sight,  for  a  military  expe 
dition,  I  have  ever  seen,  your  honour,"  whispered  Joyce, 
aAer  the  two  had  stood  examining  the  position  for  quite  a 
minute  in  silence.  "  A  tolerable  good  log  breast-work,  I 
will  allow,  sir,  and  men  enough  to  make  it  good  against  a 
sharp  assault ;  but  nothing  like  a  guard,  and  not  so  much 
as  a  single  sentinel.  This  is  an  affront  to  the  art.  Captain 
Wiiloughby ;  and  it  is  such  an  affront  to  us,  that  1  feel  cer 
tain  we  might  carry  the  post  by  surprise,  if  all  felt  the  insult 
as  I  do  myself." 

"  This  is  no  time  for  rash  acts  or  excited  feelings,  Joyce. 
Though,  were  my  gallant  boy  with  us,  I  do  think  we  might 
make  a  push  at  these  fellows,  with  very  reasonable  chances 
of  success." 

"Yes,  your  honour,  and  without  him,  too.  A  close  fire, 
three  cheers,  and  a  vigorous  charge  would  drive  every  one 
of  the  rascals  into  the  woods !" 

"  Where  they  would  rally,  become  the  assailants  in  their 
turn,  surround  us,  and  either  compel  us  to  surrender,  or 
starve  us  out.  At  all  events,  nothing  of  the  sort  must  be 

VOL.  H.  — 11 


,  __ 

122  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

undertaken  until  we  have  carried  out  the  plan  for  the  rescue 
of  Major  Willoughby.  My  hopes  of  success  are  greatly 
increased  since  I  find  the  enemy  has  his  principal  post  up 
here,  where  he  must  be  a  long  half-mile  from  the  mill,  even 
in  a  straight  line.  You  have  counted  the  enemy  ?' 

"  There  are  just  forty-nine  of  them  in  sight,  and  I  should 
think  some  eight  or  ten  more  sleeping  about  under  the  logs, 
as  I  occasionally  discover  a  new  one  raising  his  head. — 
Look,  sir,  does  your  honour  see  that  manoeuvre  ?" 

"Do  I  see  what,  serjeant? — There  is  no  visible  change 
that  I  discover." 

"  Only  an  Indian  chopping  wood,  Captain  Willoughby, 
which  is  some  such  miracle  as  a  white  man  painting." 

The  reader  will  have  understood  that  all  the  hostile  party 
that  was  lounging  about  this  clearing  were  in  Indian  guise, 
with  faces  and  hands  of  the  well-known  reddish  colour  that 
marks  the  American  aborigines.  The  two  soldiers  could 
discover  many  evidences  that  there  was  deception  in  these 
appearances,  though  they  thought  it  quite  probable  that 
real  red  men  were  mingled  with  the  pale-faces.  But,  so  little 
did  the  invaders  respect  the  necessity  of  appearances  in 
their  present  position,  that  one  of  these  seeming  savages  had 
actually  mounted  a  log,  taken  the  axe  from  the  hands  of 
its  owner,  and  begun  to  chop,  with  a  vigour  and  skill  that 
soon  threw  off  chips  in  a  way  that  no  man  can  success 
fully  imitate  but  the  expert  axe-man  of  the  American 
interior. 

"  Pretty  well  that,  sir,  for  a  red-skin,"  said  Joyce,  smiling. 
"  If  there  isn't  white  blood,  ay,  and  Yankee  blood  in  that 
chap's  arm,  I  '11  give  him  some  of  my  own  to  help  colour  it. 
Step  this  way,  your  honour — only  a  foot  or  two — there, 
sir;  by  looking  through  the  opening  just  above  the  spot 
where  that  very  make-believe  Injin  is  scattering  his  chips 
as  if  they  were  so  many  kernels  of  corn  that  he  was  tossing 
to  the  chickens,  you  will  get  a  sight  of  the  Hut." 

The  fact  was  so.  By  altering  his  own  position  a  little  on 
the  rock,  Captain  Willoughby  got  a  full  view  of  the  entire 
buildings  of  the  Knoll.  It  is  true,  he  could  not  see  the  lawn 
without  the  works,  nor  quite  all  of  the  stockade,  but  the 
whole  of  the  western  wing,  or  an  entire  side-view  of  the 
dwellings,  was  obtained.  Everything  seemed  as  tranquil 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  123 

and  secure,  in  and  around  them,  as  if  they  vegetated  in  \\ 
sabbath  in  the  wilderness.  There  was  .sunn-thing  imposing 
e\«  n.  in  the  solemn  silence  of  their  air,  and  the  captain  now 
saw  that  if  he  had  been  struck,  and  rendered  uneasy  by  the 
nu.Ntery  that  accompanied  the  inaction  and  quiet  of  his  in 
vaders,  tlic-v,  in  their  turns,  might  experience  some  such 
sensations  as  they  gazed  on  the  repose  of  the  Hut,  and  the 
apparent  security  of  its  garrison.  But  for  Joel's  desertion, 
indeed,  and  the  information  he  had  carried  with  him,  tin -re 
cuuld  be  little  doubt  that  the  stranger  must  have  felt  the  in 
fluence  of  such  doubts  to  a  very  material  extent.  Alas  !  as 
things  were,  it  was  not  probable  they  could  be  long  im 
posed  on,  by  any  seeming  calm. 

Captain  WiUoughby  felt  a  reluctance  to  tear  himself  away 
from  the  spectacle  of  that  dwelling  which  contained  so  many 
that  were  dear  to  him.  Even  Joyce  gazed  at  the  house 
with  pleasure,  for  it  had  been  his  quarters,  now,  so  many 
years,  and  he  had  iookcd  forward  to  the  time  when  he 
should  breathe  his  last  in  it.  Connected  with  his  old  com 
mander  by  a  tie  that  was  inseparable,  so  far  as  human 
wishes  could  control  human  events,  it  was  impossible  that 
the  serjeant  could  go  from  the  place  where  they  had  left  so 
many  precious  beings  almost  in  the  keeping  of  Providence, 
at  a  moment  like  that,  altogether  without  emotion.  While 
each  was  thus  occupied  in  mind,  there  was  a  perfect  still 
ness.  The  men  of  the  party  had  been  so  far  drilled,  as  to 
speak  in  low  voices,  and  nothing  they  said  was  audible  on 
the  rock.  The  axes  alone  broke  the  silence  of  the  woods, 
and  to  ears  so  accustomed  to  their  blows,  they  offered  no 
intrusion.  In  the  midst  of  this  eloquent  calm,  the  bushes 
of  the  rock  rustled,  as  it  might  be  with  the  passage  of  a 
squirrel,  or  a  serpent.  Of  the  last  the  country  had  but  few, 
and  they  of  the  most  innocent  kind,  while  the  former 
abounded.  Captain  W7illoughby  turned,  expecting  to  see 
one  of  these  little  restless  beings,  when  his  gaze  eixvumti -r. -d 
a  swarthy  face,  and  two  glowing  eyes,  almost  within  reach 
cf  his  arm.  That  this  was  a  real  Indian  was  beyond  dis 
pute,  and  the  crisis  admitting  of  no  delay,  the  old  officer 
drew  a  dirk,  and  had  already  raised  his  arm  to  strike,  when 
Joyce  arrested  the  blow. 


124  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  This  is  Nick,  your  honour ;"  said  the  serjeant,  inqui 
ringly — "  is  he  friend,  or  foe?" 

"  What  says  he  himself?"  answered  the  captain,  lowering 
his  hand  in  doubt.  "  Let  him  speak  to  his  own  character." 

Nick  now  advanced  and  stood  calmly  and  fearlessly  at 
he  side  of  the  two  white  men.  Still  there  was  ferocity  in 
his  look,  and  an  indecision  in  his  movements.  He  cer 
tainly  might  betray  the  adventurers  at  any  instant,  and  they 
felt  all  the  insecurity  of  their  situation.  But  accident  had 
brought  Nick  directly  in  front  of  the  opening  through  which 
was  obtained  the  view  of  the  Hut.  In  turning  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  two  soldiers,  his  quick  eye  took  in  this 
glimpse  of  the  buildings,  and  it  became  riveted  there  as  by 
the  charm  of  fascination.  Gradually  the  ferocity  left  his 
countenance,  which  grew  human  and  soft. 

"  Squaw  in  wigwam" — said  the  Tuscarora,  throwing  for 
ward  a  hand  with  its  fore-finger  pointing  towards  the  house. 
"  Ole  squaw — young  squaw.  Good.  *Wyandotte  sick,  she 
cure  him.  Blood  in  Injin  body ;  thick  blood — nebber  forget 
good — nebber  forget  bad." 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  Every  stride — every  stamp, 
Every  footfall  is  bolder  ; 
'T  is  a  skeleton's  tramp, 
With  a  skull  on  its  shoulder ! 
But  ho,  how  he  steps 
With  a  high-tossing  head, 
That  clay-covered  bone, 
.     Going  down  to  the  dead !" 

COXK. 

NICK'S  countenance  was  a  fair  index  to  his  mind ;  ncr 
were  his  words  intended  to  deceive.  Never  did  Wyan- 
dotte  forget  the  good,  or  evil,  that  was  done  him.  After 
looking  intently,  a  short  time,  at  the  Hut,  he  turned  and 
abruptly  demanded  of  his  companions, — 

"  Why  come  here  ?  Like  to  see  enemy  between  you 
and  wigwam  ?" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  125 

As  all -Nick  said  i  .!  in  a  guarded  tone,  as  if  he 

fully  entered  into  the  necessity  of  remaining  concealed  from 
tln'M-  who  were  in  such  a  dangerous  vicinity,  it  served  to  in 
spire  confidence,  inducing  the  two  soldiers  to  believe  him 
disposed  to  serve  them. 

••  Am  1  to  trust  in  you  as  a  friend?"  demanded  the  cap 
tain,  looking  the  Indian  steadily  in  the  eye. 

"  Why  won't  trust?  Nick  no  hero — gone  away — Nick 
nebbcr  come  au'in — \Vyandotle  hero — who  no  trust  \Vyun- 
dotte?  Ycngeese  always  trust  great  chief." 

"  1  shall  take  you  at  your  word,  Wyandotle,  and  tell  you 
r\< Ty  thing,  hoping  to  make  an  ally  of  you.  But,  first  ex 
plain  to  me,  why  you  left  the  Hut,  last  night — friends  do 
not  desert  friends." 

"  Why  leave  wigwam? — Because  wanted  to.  Wyandotte 
come  when  he  want ;  go  when  he  want.  Nick  go  too. — 
Went  to  see  son — come  back  ;  tell  story  ;  eh?" 

"  Yes,  it  has  happened  much  as  you  say,  and  I  am  will 
ing  to  think  it  all  occurred  with  the  best  motives.  Can  you 
tell  me  anything  of  Joel,  and  the  others  who  have  left  me?" 

"W)>y  tell? — Cap'in  look;  he  see.  Some  chop — some 
plough — some  weed — some  dig  ditch.  All  like  ole  time. 
Bury  hatchet — tired  of  war-path — why  cap'in  ask  ?" 

"  1  see  all  you  tell  me.  You  know,  then,  that  those  fel 
lows  have  made  friends  with  the  hostile  party?" 

"  No  need  know — see.  Look — Injin  chop,  pale-face  look 
on!  Call  that  war?" 

"  I  do  see  that  which  satisfies  me  the  men  in  paint  yon 
der  are  not  all  red  men.'' 

"  No— cap'in  right — tell  him  so  at  wigwam.  But  dat 
Mi -hawk — dog — rascal — Nick's  enemy  !" 

This  was  said  with  a  gleam  of  fierceness  shooting  across 
the  swarthy  face,  and  a  menacing  gesture  of  the  hand,  in 
the  direction  of  a  real  savage  who  was  standing  indolently 
leaning  against  a  tree,  at  a  distance  so  small  as  to  allow 
those  on  the  rock  to  distinguish  his  features.  The  vacant 
expression  of  this  man's  countenance  plainly  denoted  that 
he  was  totally  unconscious  of  the  vicinity  of  danger.  It 
expressed  the  listless  vacancy  of  an  Indian  in  a  state  of 
perfect  rest — his  stomach  full,  his  body  at  ease,  his  mind 
peaceful. 

11* 


126  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  I  thought  Nick  was  not  here,"  ihe  captain  qaietly  ob 
served,  smiling  on  the  Tuscarora  a  little  ironically. 

"  Cap'in  right — Nick  no  here.  Well  for  dog  'tis  so.  Too 
mean  for  Wyandotte  to  touch.  What  cap'in  come  for'/ 
Eh  !  Better  tell  chief — get  council  widout  lightin'  fire." 

"  As  I  see  no  use  in  concealing  my  plan  from  you,  Wy. 
andotte," — Nick  seemed  pleased  whenever  this  name  was 
pronounced  by  others — "  I  shall  tell  it  you,  freely.  Still, 
you  have  more  to  relate  to  me.  Why  are  you  here? — And 
how  came  you  to  discover  us?" 

"  Follow  trail — know  cap'in  foot — know  serjeant  foot — 
know  Mike  foot — see  so  many  foot,  follow  him.  Leave  so 
many"  holding  up  three  fingers  "  in  bushes — so  many" 
holding  up  two  fingers  "  come  here.  Foot  tell  which  come 
here — Wyandotte  chief — he  follow  chief." 

"  When  did  you  first  strike,  or  see  our  trail,  Tuscarora  ?" 

"  Up  here — down  yonder — over  dere."  Captain  Wil- 
loughby  understood  this  to  mean,  that  the  Indian  had  crossed' 
the  trail,  or  seen  it  in  several  places.  "  Plenty  trail ;  plenty 
foot  to  tell  all  about  it.  Wyandotte  see  foot  of  friend — • 
why  he  don't  follow,  eh  ?" 

"  i  hope  this  is  all  so,  old  warrior,  and  that  you  will  prove 
yourself  a  friend  indeed.  We  are  out  in  the  hope  of  libe 
rating  my  son,  and  we  came  here  to  see  what  our  enemies 
are  about." 

The  Tuscarora's  eyes  were  like  two  inquisitors,  as  he 
listened  ;  but  he  seemed  satisfied  that  the  truth  was  told  him. 
Assuming  an  air  of  interest,  he  inquired  if  the  captain  knew 
where  the  major  was  confined.  A  few  words  explained 
everything,  and  the  parties  soon  understood  each  other. 

"  Cap'in  right,"  observed  Nick.  "  Son  in  cupboard  still; 
but  plenty  warrior  near,  to  keep  eye  on  him." 

"  You  know'  his  position,  Wyanaotte,  and  can  aid  us 
materially,  if  you  will.  What  say  you,  chief;  will  you 
take  service,  once  more,  under  your  old  commander?" 

"  Who  he  sarve  —  King  George  —  Congress  —  eh?" 

"  Neither.  I  am  neutral,  Tuscarora,  in  the  present  quar 
rel.  I  only  defend  myself,  and  the  rights  which  the  laws 
assure  to  me,  let  whichever  party  govern,  that  may." 

"  Dat  bad.  Nebber  neutral  in  hot  war.  Get  rob  from 
bot'  side.  Alway  be  one  or  t'  oder,  cap'in." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  127 

"  You  may  be  right,  Nicholas,  but  a  conscientious  man 
may  think  neither  wholly  right,  nor  wholly  wrong.  I  wish 
ni.-vcr  to  lift  the  hatchet,  unless  my  quarrel  be  just." 

"Injin  no  understand  dat.  Throw  hatchet  at  enemy  — 
what  matter  what  he  say — good  t'ing,  bad  t'ing.  He  enemy 
—  dat  enough.  Take  scalp  from  enemy  —  don't  touch 
frirnd." 

"  That  may  do  for  your  mode  of  warfare,  Tuscarora,  but 
it  will  hardly  do  for  mine.  I  must  feel  that  I  have  right  of 
my  side,  before  I  am  willing  to  tnke  life." 

"  Cap'in  always  talk  so,  eh  ?  When  he  soldier,  and  gene 
ral  say  shoot  ten,  forty,  t'ousand  Frenchmen,  den  he  say ; 
1  stop,  general  —  no  hurry  —  let  cap'in  t'ink.'  Bye-'m-by 
he  '11  go  and  take  scalp  ;  eh  !" 

It  exceeded  our  old  soldier's  self-command  not  to  permit 
the  blood  to  rush  into  his  face,  at  this  home-thrust ;  for  he 
felt  the  cunning  of  the  Indian  had  involved  him  in  a  seeming 
contradiction. 

"  That  was  when  I  was  in  the  army,  Wyandotte,"  he 
answered,  notwithstanding  his  confusion,  "  when  my  first, 
and  highest  duty,  was  to  obey  the  orders  of  my  superiors. 
Then  I  acted  as  a  soldier ;  now,  I  hope  to  act  as  a  man." 

"  Well,  Indian  chief  alway  in  army.  Always  high  duty, 
and  obey  superior  —  obey  Manitou,  and  take  scalp  from 
enemy.  War-path  alway  open,  when  enemy  at  t'other 
end." 

"  This  is  no  place  to  discuss  such  questions,  chief;  nor 
have  we  the  time.  Do  you  go  with  us  ?" 

Nick  nodded  an  assent,  and  signed  for  the  other  to 
quit  the  rocks.  The  captain  hesitated  a  moment,  during 
which  he  stood  intently  studying  the  scene  in  the  clearing. 

"  What  say  you,  Tuscarora ;  the  serjcant  has  proposed 
assaulting  that  breast-work  ?" 

"  Xo  good,  cap'in.  You  fire,  halloo,  rush  on — well,  kill 
four,  six,  two  —  rest  run  away.  Injin  down  at  mill  hear 
rifle  ;  follow  smoke — where  major,  den  ?  Get  major,  first — 
fink  about  enemy  afterwards. 

As  Nick  said  "this,  he  repeated  the  gesture  to  descend  ; 
and  he  was  obeyed  in  siiencc.  The  captain  now  led  the 
way  back  to  his  party  ;  and  soon  rejoined  it.  All  were  glad 
to  sen  Nick,  for  he  was  known  to  have  a  sure  rifle;  to  bo 


128  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

fearless  as  the  turkey-cock ;  and  to  possess  a  sagacity  in 
the  woods,  that  frequently  amounted  to  a  species  of  intuition. 

"  Who  lead,  cap'in  or  Injin?"  asked  the  Tuscarora,  in 
his  sententious  manner. 

"  Och,  Nick,  ye  're  a  cr'ature  !"  muttered  Mike.  "  Divil 
bur-r-rn  me,  Jamie,  but  I  t'inks  the  fallie  would  crass  the 
very  three-tops,  rather  than  miss  the  majjor's  habitation." 

"  Not  a  syllable  must  be  uttered,"  said  the  captain,  raising 
a  hand  in  remonstrance.  "  I  will  lead,  and  Wyandotte  will 
march  by  my  side,  and  give  me  his  council,  in  whispers. 
Joyce  will  bring  up  the  rear.  Blodget,  you  will  keep  a  sharp 
look-out  to  the  left,  while  Jamie  will  do  the  same  to  the 
right.  As  we  approach  the  mills,  stragglers  may  be  met  in 
the  woods,  and  our  march  must  be  conducted  with  the 
greatest  caution.  Now  follow,  and  be  silent." 

The  captain  and  Nick  led,  and  the  whole  party  followed, 
observing  the  silence  which  had  been  enjoined  on  them. 
The  usual  manner  of  marching  on  a  war-path,  in  the  woods, 
was  for  the  men  to  follow  each  other  singly  ;  an  order  that 
has  obtained  the  name  of '  Indian  file,'  the  object  being  to 
diminish  the  trail,  and  conceal  the  force  of  the  expedition, 
by  each  man  treading  in  his  leader's  footsteps.  On  the 
present  occasion,  however,  the  captain  induced  Nick  to 
walk  at  his  side,  feeling  an  uneasiness  on  the  subject  of  the 
Tuscarora's  fidelity  that  he  could  not  entirely  conquer.  The 
pretext  given  was  very  different,  as  the  reader  will  suppose. 
By  seeing  the  print  of  a  moccasin  in  company  with  that  of 
a  boot,  any  straggler  that  crossed  the  trail  might  be  led  to 
suppose  it  had  been  left  by  the  passage  of  a  party  from  the 
clearing  or  the  mill.  Nick  quietly  assented  to  this  reason 
ing,  and  fell  in  by  the  side  of  the  captain  without  remon 
strance. 

Vigilant  eyes  were  kept  on  all  sides  of  the  line  of  march, 
though  it  was  hoped  and  believed  that  the  adventurers  had 
struck  upon  a  route  too  far  west  to  be  exposed  to  interrup 
tion.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  nearer  to  the  flats  might  have 
brought  them  within  the  range  of  stragglers  ;  but,  following 
the  summit  of  the  ridge,  there  was  a  certain  security  in  the 
indolence  which  would  be  apt  to  prevent  mere  idlers  from 
sauntering  up  an  ascent.  At  all  events,  no  interruption 
occurred,  the  party  reaching  in  safety  the  rocks  that  were 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  129 

a  continuation  of  ftbe  ran^e  \\hirh  funned  the  precipice  at 
the  falls — the  sign  that  they  had  gone  liir  enough  to  the 
soutli.  At  this  period,  tin-  precipice  was  nearly  lost  in  the 
rising  of  tin.'  lower  land,  hut  its  margin  \vas  sullicicntly  dis 
tinct  to  form  a  good  mask. 

Detceading  to  the  plateau  beneath,  the  captain  and  Nick 
now  inclined  to  the  ea^,  the  intention  being  to  come  in  upon 
the  mills  from  the  rear.  As  the  buildings  lay  in  the  ravine, 
this  could  only  be  done  by  making  a  rapid  descent  imme 
diately  in  their  vicinity;  a  formation  of  the  ground  that 
rendered  the  march,  until  within  pistol-shot  of  its  termina 
tion,  reasonably  secure.  Nick  also  assured  his  companions 
that  he  had  several  times  traversed  this  very  plateau,  and 
that  he  had  met  no  signs  of  footsteps  on  it ;  from  which  lie 
inferred  that  the  invaders  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to 
a-i-end  the  rugged  dills  that  bounded  the  western  side  of 
the  glen. 

The  approach  to  the  summit  of  the  clifF  was  made  with 
caution,  though  the  left  flank  of  the  adventurers  was  well 
protected  by  the  abrupt  descent  they  had  already  made 
from  the  terrace  above.  This  left  little  more  than  the  ri^ht 
flank  and  the  front  to  be  watched,  the  jailing  away  of  The 
land  forming,  also,  a  species  of  cover  for  the  rear.  It  is 
not  surprising  then,  that  the  tergeof  the  raxine  or  glen 
was  attained,  and  no  discovery  was  made.  The  spot  being 
favourable,  the  captain  immediately  led  down  a  winding 
path,  that  was  densely  fringed  with  bushes,  towards  the 
level  of  the  buildings. 

The  glen  of  the  mills  was  very  narrow  ;  so  much  so,  as 
barely  to  leave  sites  for  the  buildmgs  themselves,  and  thr. •«• 
or  four  cabins  for  the  workmen.  The  mills  were  placed 
in  advance,  as  near  as  possible  to  the  course  of  the  \\  : 
while  the  habitations  of  the  workmen  were  perched  on 
shelves  of  the  rocks,  or  such  level  bits  of  bottom-land  as 
ofli-n  d.  Owing  to  this  last  circumstance,  the  hoi; 
Daniel  the  miller,  or  that  in  which  it  was  snppo-ed  the 
major  was  still  confined,  stood  by  itself,  and  tort 
the  very  foot  of  the  path  by  which  the  adventurers  were 
:iding.  All  this  was  favourable,  and  had  been  taki-n 
into  the  account  as  a  material  advantage,  by  Captain  Wil- 


130  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

loughby  when  he  originally  conceived  the  plan  of  the  pre 
sent  sortie. 

When  the  chimney  of  the  cabin  was  visible  over  the 
bushes,  Captain  Willoughby  halted  his  party,  and  repeated 
his  instruction  to  Joyce,  in  a  voice  very  little  raised  above 
a  whisper.  The  serjeant  was  ordered  to  remain  in  his  pre 
sent  position,  until  he  received  a  signal  to  advance.  As  for 
the  captain,  himself,  he  intended  to  descend  as  near  as 
might  be  to  the  buttery  of  the  cabin,  and  reconnoitre,  be 
fore  he  gave  the  final  order.  This  buttery  was  in  a  lean-to, 
as  a  small  addition  to  the  original  building  was  called  in  the 
parlance  of  the  country ;  and,  the  object  being  shade  and 
coolness,  on  account  of  the  milk  with  which  it  was  usually 
well  stored  at  this  season  of  the  year,  it  projected  back  to 
the  very  cliff,  where  it  was  half  hid  in  bushes  and  young 
trees.  It  had  but  a  single  small  window,  that  was  barred 
with  wood  to  keep  out  cats,  and  such  wild  vermin  as  affected 
milk,  nor  was  it  either  lathed  or  plastered ;  these  two  last 
being  luxuries  not  often  known  in  the  log  tenements  of  the 
frontier.  Still  it  was  of  solid  logs,  chinked  in  with  mortar, 
and  made  a  very  effectual  prison,  with  the  door  properly 
guarded ;  the  captive  being  deprived  of  edged  tools.  All 
this  was  also  known  to  the  father,  when  he  set  forth  to  effect 
the  liberation  of  his  son,  and,  like  the  positions  of  the  build 
ings  themselves,  had  been  well  weighed  in  his  estimate  of 
the  probabilities  and  chances. 

As  soon  as  his  orders  were  given,  Captain  Willoughby 
proceeded  down  the  path,  accompanied  only  by  Nick.  He 
had  announced  his  intention  to  send  the  Tuscarora  ahead 
to  reconnoitre,  then  to  force  himself  among  the  bushes 
between  the  lean-to  and  the  rocks,  and  there  to  open  a  com 
munication  with  the  major  through  the  chinks  of  the  logs. 
After  receiving  Nick's  intelligence,  his  plan  was  to  be  go 
verned  by  circumstances,  and  to  act  accordingly. 

"  God  bless  you,  Joyce,"  said  the  captain,  squeezing  the 
Serjeant's  hand  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  descending.  "  We 
are  on  ticklish  service,  and  require  all  our  wits  about  us. 
If  anything  happen  to  me,  remember  that  my  wife  and 
daughter  will  mainly  depend  on  you  for  protection." 

"  I  shall  consider  that  as  your  honour's  orders,  sir,  and 
no  more  need  be  said  to  me,  Captain  Willoughby." 


THE     HUTTED      KNOLL.  131 

The  captain  smiled  on  his  old  follov, vr,  and  Joyce  thought 
that  never  had  he  seen  the  fine  manly  face  of  his  superior 
beam  with  a  calmer,  or  sweeter  expression,  than  it  did  as 
he  returned  his  own  pressure  of  the  hand.  The  two 
adventurers  were  both  careful,  and  their  descent  was 
noiseless.  The  men  above  listened,  in  breathless  silence, 
but  the  stealthy  approach  of  the  cat  upon  the  bird  could  not 
have  been  more  still,  than  that  of  these  two  experienced 
warriors. 

The  place  where  Joyce  was  left  with  the  men,  might 
have  been  fifty  feet  above  the  roof  of  the  cabin,  and  almost 
perpendicularly  over  the  narrow  vacancy  that  was  known 
to  exibt  between  the  rocks  and  the  lean-to.  Still  the  bushes 
and  trees  were  so  thick  as  to  prevent  the  smallest  glimpse 
at  objects  below,  had  the  shape  of  the  cliff  allowed  it,  while 
they  even  intercepted  sounds.  Joyce  fancied,  nevertheless, 
that  he  heard  the  rustling  bushes,  as  the  captain  forced  his 
way  into  the  narrow  space  he  was  to  occupy,  and  he  au 
gured  well  of  the  fact,  since  it  proved  that  no  opposition  had 
been  encountered.  Half  an  hour  of  forest  silence  followed, 
that  was  only  interrupted  by  the  tumbling  of  the  waters 
over  the  natural  dam.  At  the  end  of  that  weary  period,  a 
shout  was  heard  in  front  of  the  mills,  and  the  party  raised 
their  pieces,  in  a  vague  apprehension  that  some  discovery 
had  been  made  that  was  about  to  bring  on  a  crisis.  No- 
thing  further  occurred,  however,  to  confirm  this  impression, 
and  an  occasional  burst  of  laughter,  that  evidently  came 
from  white  men,  rather  served  to  allay  the  apprehension. 
Another  half-hour  passed,  during  which  no  interruption  was 
heard.  By  this  time  Joyce  became  uneasy,  a  state  of  things 
having  arrived  for  which  no  provision  had  been  made  in  his 
instructions.  He  was  about  to  leave  his  command  under 
the  charge  of  Jamie,  and  descend  himself  to  reconnoitre, 
when  a  footstep  was  heard  coming  up  the  path.  Nothing 
but  the  deep  attention,  and  breathless  stillness  of  the  men 
could  have  rendered  the  sound  of  a  tread  so  nearly  noise 
less,  audible ;  but  heard  it  was,  at  a  moment  when  every 
sense  was  wrought  up  to  its  greatest  powers.  Rifles  were 
lowered,  in  readiness  to  receive  assailants,  but  each  was 
raised  again,  as  Nick  came  slowly  into  view.  The  Tusca- 
rora  was  calm  in  manner,  as  if  no  incident  had  occurred  to 


332  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

disconcert  the  arrangement,  though  his  eyes  glanced  a/ound 
him,  like  those  of  a  man  who  searched  for  an  absent  person. 

"  Where  cap'in? —  Where  major?"  Nick  asked,  as  soon 
as  his  glance  had  taken  in  the  faces  of  all  present. 

"  We  must  ask  that  of  you,  Nick,"  returned  Joyce.  "  We 
have  not  seen  the  captain,  nor  had  any  orders  from  him, 
since  he  left  us." 

This  answer  seemed  to  cause  the  Indian  more  surprise 
than  it  was  usual  for  him  to  betray,  and  he  pondered  a  mo 
ment  in  obvious  uneasiness. 

"  Can't  stay  here,  alway,"  he  muttered.  "  Best  go  see. 
Bye'm-by  trouble  come ;  then,  too  late." 

The  serjeant  was  greatly  averse  to  moving  without  or 
ders.  He  had  his  instructions  how  to  act  in  every  probable 
contingency,  but  none  that  covered  the  case  of  absolute  in 
action  on  the  part  of  those  below.  Nevertheless,  twice  the 
time  necessary  to  bring  things  to  issue  had  gone  by,  and 
neither  signal,  shot,  nor  alarm  had  reached  his  ears. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  the  major,  Nick?"  the  ser 
jeant  demanded,  determined  to  examine  the  case  thoroughly 
ere  he  came  to  a  decision. 

'*  Major  dere  —  see  him  at  door  —  plenty  sentinel.  All 
good  —  where  cap'in  ?" 

"  Where  did  you  leave  him  ?  —  You  can  give  the  last  ac 
count  of  him." 

"  Go  in  behind  cupboard — under  rock — plenty  bushes — 
all  right — son  dere." 

"  This  must  be  looked  to — perhaps  his  honour  has  fallen 
into  a  fit — such  things  sometimes  happen — and  a  man  who 
is  fighting  for  his  own  child,  doesn't  feel,  Jamie,  all  the  same 
as  one  who  fights  on  a  general  principle,  as  it  might  be." 

"  Na — ye  're  right,  sairjeant  J'yce,  and  ye  '11  be  doing  the 
kind  and  prudont  act,  to  gang  doon  yersal',  and  investigate 
the  trainsaction  with  yer  ain  een." 

This  Joyce  determined  to  do,  directing  Nick  to  accom 
pany  him,  as  a  guide.  The  Indian  seemed  glad  to  comply, 
and  there  was  no  delay  in  proceeding.  It  required  but  a 
minute  to  reach  the  narrow  passage  between  the  cliff  and 
the  lean-to.  The  bushes  were  carefully  shoved  aside,  and 
Joyce  entered.  He  soon  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  hunting- 
shirt,  and  then  he  was  about  to  withdraw,  believing  that  he 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  133 

was  in  error,  in  anticipating  orders.  But  a  short  Vx>k  at  }\ia 
commander  removed  all  scruples ;  for  he  observed  that  he 
was  seated  i.n  a  projection  of  the  rocks,  with  his  body  bowed 
forward,  apparently  leaning  on  the  logs  of  tiie  building. 
Tliis  Deemed  to  corroborate  the  thought  about  a  fit,  and  the 
Serjeant  pres>ed  eagerly  forward  to  ascertain  the  truth. 

Joyce  touched  his  commander's  arm,  but  no  sign  of  con 
sciousness  came  from  the  latter.  He  then  raised  his  body 
upright,  placing  the  back  in  a  reclining  attitude  against  the 
rocks,  and  started  kick  hiin^-lf  wlu-n  ho  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  death-like  hue  of  tin-  face.  At  first,  the  notion  of  the 
fit  was  strong  with  the  serjeant ;  but,  in  ehanifing  his  own 
position,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  little  pool  of  blood,  which 
at  once  announced  that  violence  had  been  used. 

Although  the  serjeant  was  a  man  of  great  steadiness  of 
B,  and  unchangeable  method,  he  fairly  trembled  as  he 
ascertained  the  serious  condition  of  his  old  and  well-beloved 
commander.  Notwithstanding,  lie  was  too  much  of  a  sol 
dier  to  neglect  anything  that  circumstances  required.  On 
examination,  he  discovered  a  deep  and  fatal  wound  between 
two  of  the  ribs,  which  had  evidently  been  inflicted  with  a 
common  knife.(  The  blow  had  pa.-sed  into  the  heart,  and 
Captain  Willoughby  was,  out  of  all  question,  dead!  He 
had  breathed  his  last,  within  six  feet  of  his  own  gallant  son, 
who,  ignorant  of  all  that  passed,  was  little  dreaming  of  the 
proximity  of  one  so  dear  to  him,  as  well  as  of  his  dire 
condition. 

J«>yeo,  was  a  man  of  powerful  frame,  and,  at  that  moment, 
he  felt  he  was  master  of  a  giant's  strength.     First  assuring 
If  of  the   fact  that  the   wounded   man  had  certainly 
i  to  breathe,  he  brought  the.  arms  over  his  own  shoul 
ders,  raised   the   body  on   his  back,  and   walked   from  the 
place,  with  less  attention  to  caution  than  on  entering,  but 
with  sufficient  care  to  prevent  exposure.    Nick  stood  watch- 
in  Lr  his  movements  with  a  wondering  look,  and  as  soon  as 
'.hi -re  was  room,  he  aided  in  supporting  the  cor; 

In  this  manner  the;  two  went  up  the  path,  bearing  their 
senseless  burd.-n.  A  gesture  directed  lh<-  party  with  Jamie 
to  precede  the  two  who  had  been  below,  and  the  serjeant  did 
not  pause  even  to  breathe,  until  he  had  fairly  reached  the 
summit  of  the  cliff;  then  he  halted  in  a  place  removed  from  tiie 
VOL.  II.  — 12 


134  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

danger  of  immediate  discovery.  The  body  was  laid  reve 
rently  on  the  ground,  and  Joyce  renewed  his  examination 
with  greater  ease  and  accuracy,  until  perfectly  satisfied  that 
the  captain  must  have  ceased  to  breathe,  nearly  an  hour. 

This  was  a  sad  and  fearful  blow  to  the  whole  party.  No 
one,  at  such  a  moment,  thought  of  inquiring  into  the  manner 
in  which  their  excellent  master  had  received  his  death-blow ; 
but  every  thought  was  bent  either  on  the  extent  of  the 
calamity,  or  on  the  means  of  getting  back  to  the  Hut. 
Joyce  was  the  soul  of  the  party.  His  rugged  face  assumed 
a  stern,  commanding  expression;  but  every  sign  of  weak 
ness  had  disappeared.  He  gave  his  orders  promptly,  and 
the  men  even  started  when  he  spoke,  so  bent  on  obtaining 
obedience  did  he  appear  to  be. 

The  rifles  were  converted  into  a  bier,  the  body  was  placed 
upon  it,  and  the  four  men  then  raised  the  burthen,  and  began 
to  retrace  their  footsteps,  in  melancholy  silence.  Nick  led 
the  way,  pointing  out  the  difficulties  of  the  path,  with  a 
sedulousness  of  attention,  and  a  gentleness  of  manner,  that 
none  present  had  ever  before  witnessed  in  the  Tuscarora 
He  even  appeared  to  have  become  woman,  to  use  one  of  his 
own  peculiar  expressions. 

No  one  speaking,  and  all  the  men  working  with  good 
will,  the  retreat,  notwithstanding  the  burthen  with  which  it 
was  encumbered,  was  made  with  a  rapidity  greatly  exceed 
ing  the  advance.  Nick  led  the  way  with  an  unerring  eye, 
even  selecting  better  ground  than  that  which  the  white  men 
had  been  able  to  find  on  their  march.  He  had  often  tra 
versed  all  the  hills,  in  the  character  of  a  hunter,  and  to  him 
the  avenues  of  the  forest  were  as  familiar  as  the  streets  of 
his  native  town  become  to  the  burgher.  He  made  no  offer 
to  become  one  of  the  bearers  ;  this  would  have  been  opposed 
to  his  habits ;  but,  in  all  else,  the  Indian  manifested  gentle 
ness  and  solicitude.  His  apprehension  seemed  to  be,  and 
so  he  expressed  it,  that  the  Mohawks  might  get  the  scalp  of 
the  dead  man ;  a  disgrace  that  he  seemed  as  solicitous  to 
avoid  as  Joyce  himself;  the  serjeant,  however,  keeping  in 
view  the  feelings  of  the  survivors,  rather  than  any  notions 
of  military  pride. 

Notwithstanding  the  stern  resolution  that  prevailed  among 
the  men,  that  return  march  was  long  and  weary.  The  dis« 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  135 

tanre,  of  itself,  exceeded  two  miles,  and  there  were  tho 
inequalities  and  obstacles  of  a  forest  to  oppose  them.  Per 
severance  and  strength,  h«>w-  'nne  all  difficulties; 
and,  at  the  end  of  two  hours,  the  party  approached  the  point 
where  it  became  mressary  to  enter  the  !>ed  of  the  rivulet, 
or  expose  their  sad  procession  by  marching  in  open  view  of 
any  who  might  be  straggling  in  the  rear  of  the  Hut.  A 
s  of  desperate  determination  had  influenced  the  men 
in  their  re-turn  march,  rendering  them  reckless  of  discovery, 
or  its  consequences;  a  circumstance  that  had  greatly 
favoured  their  object;  the  adventurous  and  bold  frequently 
encountering  fewer  difficulties,  in  tho  affairs  of  war,  than 
the  cautious  and  timid.  But  an  embarrassment  now  pre 
sented  itself  that  was  far  more  difficult  to  encounter  than 
anv  which  proceeded  from  personal  risks.  The  loving 
family  of  the  deceased  was  to  be  met ;  a  wife  and  daughters 
apprised  of  the  fearful  loss  that,  in  the  providence  of  God, 
had  suddenly  alighted  on  their  house. 

«'  Lower  the  body,  men,  and  come  to  a  halt,"  said  Joyce, 
using  the  manner  of  authority,  though  his  voice  trembled  ; 
"  we  must  consult  together,  as  to  our  next  step." 

There  was  a  brief  and  decent  pause,  while  the  parly 
placed  the  lifeless  body  on  the  grass,  face  uppermost,  with 
the  limbs  laid  in  order,  and  everything  about  it,  disposed  of 
in  a  seemliness  that  betokened  profound  respect  for  the 
senseless  clay,  even  after  the  noble  spirit  had  departed. 
Mike  alone  could  not  resist  his  strong  native  propensity  to 
talk.  The  honest  fellow  raised  a  hand  of  his  late  master, 
and,  kissing  it  with  strong  affection,  soliloquized  as  follows, 
in  a  tone  that  was  more  rebuked  by  feeling,  than  any  appre 
hension  of  consequences. 

"Little  need  had  ye  of  a  praist,  and  extreme  unction,"  ho 
said.  "The  likes  of  yerself  always  kapos  a  clane  breast ; 
and  the  knife  that  went  into  ycr  heart  found  nothing  that  yo 
need  have  been  ashamed  of!  Sorrow  come  over  me,  but 
v.-r  IfU  -reat  a  one  to  meself,  as  if  I  had  tidings  of  the 

iinkii:  ;  Ireland  into  tho  salt  say,  itself;  a  thing  that 

niver  run  happen,  and  nivor  will  happen;  no,  not  even  at 
the  last  day ;  as  all  agree  tho  wor-r-ld  is  to  be  burned  and 
not  drowned.  And  who  Ml  there  be  to  tell  this  same  to  the- 
Missus,  and  Miss  Beuley,  and  phratty  Miss  Maud,  and  tho 


136  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

babby,  in  the  bargain  ?  Divil  bur-r-n  me,  if  't  will  be 
Michael  O'Hearn,  who  has  too  much  sorrow  of  his  own,  to 
be  running  about,  and  d'aling  it  out  to  other  people.  Sar- 
jeant,  that  will  be  yer  own  jewty,  and  I  pities  the  man  that 
has  to  perform  it." 

"  No  man  will  see  me  shrink  from  a  duty,  O'Hearn," 
said  Joyce,  stiffly,  while  with  the  utmost  difficulty  he  kept 
the  tears  from  breaking  out  of  a  fountain  that  had  not 
opened,  in  this  way,  for  twenty  years.  "  It  may  bear  hard 
on  my  feelings — 1  do  not  say  it  will  not — but  duty  is  duly, 
and  it  must  be  done.  Corporal  Allen,  you  see  the  state  of 
things  ;  the  commanding  officer  is  among  the  casualties, 
and  nothing  would  be  simpler  than  our  course,  were  it  not 
for  Madam  Willoughby —  God  bless  her,  and  have  her  in 
His  holy  keeping — and  the  young  ladies.  It  is  proper  to 
deliberate  a  little  about  them.  To  you  then,  as  an  elderly 
and  experienced  man,  I  first  apply  for  an  opinion." 

"  Sorrow 's  an  unwelcome  guest,  whether  it  comes  ex 
pected,  or  without  any  previous  knowledge.  The  hairts  o' 
the  widow  and  fairtherless  must  be  stricken,  and  it 's  little 
that  a'  our  consolations  and  expairiments  will  prevail  ag'in 
the  feelin's  o'  natur'.  Pheeloosophy  and  religion  tall  us  that 
the  body  's  no  mair  than  a  clod  o'  the  valley  when  the 
speerit  has  fled ;  but  the  hairt  is  unapt  to  listen  to  wisdom 
while  the  grief  is  fraish,  and  of  the  severity  of  an  unlooked- 
for  sairtainty.  /  see  little  good,  therefore,  in  doing  mair 
than  just  sending  in  a  messenger  to  clear  the  way  a  little 
for  the  arrival  of  truth,  in  the  form  o'  death,  itsaP." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  this — will  you  take  the  office, 
Jamie,  as  a  man  of  years  and  discretion?" 

"  Na — na — ye '11  be  doing  far  better  by  sending  a  younger 
man.  Age  has  weakened  my  memory,  and  1  '11  be  over 
looking  some  o'-the  saircumstances  in  a  manner  that  will  be 
unseemly  for  the  occasion.  Here  is  Blodget,  a  youth  of 
ready  wit,  and  limber  tongue." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it,  mason,  to  be  the  owner  of  ten  such 
properties  as  this !"  exclaimed  the  young  Rhode  Islander, 
actually  recoiling  a  step,  as  if  he  retreated  before  a  dreaded 
foe. 

"  -Well,  sairjeant,  ye  've  Michael  here,  who  belangs  to  a 
kirk  that  has  so  little  seempathy  with  protestantism  as  to 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  137 

lessen  the  pain  o'  the  office.  Death  is  a  near  ally  to  religion, 
and  Michael,  hy  taking  a  religious  view  o'  the  mnither,  might 
bring  his  hairt  into  such  a  condition  of  insensibility  as  wad 
give  him  little  to  do  but  to  tell  what  has  happened,  leaving 
God,  in  his  ain  maircv,  to  temper  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb." 

'•  You  hear,  O'Hcarn  ?"  said  the  serjeant,  stiflly — "  Every 
body  seems  to  expect  that  you  will  do  this  duty." 

"  Jcwty  ! — D  'ye  call  it  a  jcwty  for  a  man  in  my  situation 
to  break  the  hearts  of  Missus,  and  Miss  Beuly,  and  phratty 
MUs  Maud,  and  the  babby  ?  for  babbies  has  hearts  as  well 
as  the  stoutest  man  as  is  going.  Divil  bur-r-n  me,  then,  if 
ye  gets  out  of  my  mout'  so  much  as  a  hint  that  the  captain 's 
dead  and  gone  from  us,  for  ever  and  ever,  amen  !  Ye  may 
send  me  in,  for  ye 're  corporals,  and  serjeants,  and  the  likes 
of  yces,  and  I  '11  obey  as  a  souldier,  seein'  that  he  would 
have  wished  as  much  himself,  had  the  breat'  staid  in  his 
body,  which  it  has  not,  on  account  of  its  1'aving  his  sowl  on 
'arth,  and  departing  with  his  corporeal  part  for  the  mansions 
of  happiness,  the  Blessed  Mary  have  mercy  on  him,  whether 
here  or  there  —  but  the  captain  was  not  the  man  to  wish  a 
faitYul  follower  to  afllict  his  own  wile;  and  so  I'll  have 
not'in'  to  do  with  such  a  message,  at  all  at  all." 

"  Nick  go"  —  said  the  Indian,  calmly  —  "  Used  to  carry 
message  —  carry  him  for  cap'in,  once  more." 

"  Well,  Nick,  you  may  do  it  certainly,  if  so  disposed," 
answered  Joyce,  who  would  have  accepted  the  services  of  a 
Chinese  rather  than  undertake  the  office  in  person.  "  You 
will  remember  and  speak  to  the  ladies  gently,  and  not  break 
the  news  too  suddenly." 

"Yes — squaw  soft  heart — Nick  know — had  moder — had 
wife,  once — had  darter." 

"Very  well ;  this  will  be  an  advantage,  men,  as  Nick  is 
the  only  married  man  among  us;  and  married  men  should 
best  understand  dealing  with  females." 

Joyce  then  held  a  private  communication  with  the  Tusca- 
rora,  that  lasted  some  five  or  six  minutes,  when  the  last 
leaped  nimbly  into  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  was  soon  con 
cealed  by  the  bushes  of  one  of  its  reaches. 
12* 


138  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"  Heart  leaps  to  heart — the  sacred  flood 

That  warms  us  is  the  same ; 
That  good  old  man — his  honest  blood 
Alike  we  fondly  claim." 

SPRAGUE. 

ALTHOUGH  Nick  commenced  his  progress  with  so  much 
seeming  zeal  and  activity,  his  speed  abated,  the  moment  he 
found  himself  beyond  the  sight  of  those  he  had  left  in  the 
woods.  Before  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  his  trot  had 
degenerated  to  a  walk  ;  and  when  he  actually  found  he  was 
at  its  base,  he  seated  himself  on  a  stone,  apparently  to  reflect 
on  the  course  he  ought  to  pursue. 

The  countenance  of  the  Tuscarora  expressed  a  variety  ot 
emotions  while  he  thus  remained  stationary.  At  first,  it 
was  fierce,  savage,  exulting ;  then  it  became  gentler,  soft, 
perhaps  repentant.  He  drew  his  knife  from  its  buckskin 
sheath,  and  eyed  the  blade  with  a  gaze  expressive  of  uneasi 
ness.  Perceiving  that  a  clot  of  blood  had  collected  at  the 
junction  with  the  handle,  it  was  carefully  removed  by  the 
use  of  water.  His  look  next  passed  over  his  whole  person, 
in  order  to  ascertain  if  any  more  of  these  betrayers  of  his 
fearful  secret  remained  ;  after  which  he  seemed  more  at  ease. 

"  Wyandotte's  back  don't  ache  now,"  he  growled  to  him 
self.  "  Ole  sore  heal  up.  Why  Cap'in  touch  him  ?  T'ink 
Injin  no  got  feelin'  1  Good  man,  sometime  ;  bad  man,  some 
time.  Sometime,  live ;  sometime,  die.  Why  tell  Wyan- 
dotte  he  flog  ag'in,  just  as  go  to  enemy's  camp?  No  ;  back 
feel  well,  now — nebber  smart,  any  more." 

When  this  soliloquy  was  ended,  Nick  arose,  cast  a  look; 
up  at  the  sun,  to  ascertain  how  much  of  the  day  still  re 
mained,  glanced  towards  the  Hut,  as  if  examining  the  nature 
of  its  defences,  stretched  himself  like  one  who  was  weary, 
and  peeped  out  from  behind  the  bushes,  in  order  to  see  how 
those  who  were  afield,  still  occupied  themselves.  All  this 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  139 


done,  with  singular  deliberation  and  steadiness,  li(i 
his  light  dress,  and  prepared  to  present  himself  before  tho 
will.-  and  daughters  of  the  man,  whom,  three  hours  before, 
IK*  had  remorselessly  murdered.  Nick  had  often  meditated 
this  tn  ach.'i-ous  de«  (1,  during  the  thirty  years  which  had 
elapsed  between  his  tirst  flogging  and  the  present  period; 
but  circumstances  had  never  placed  its  execution  safely  in 
his  power.  The  subsequent  punishments  had  increased  tho 
desire,  for  a  l<-w  years;  but  time  had  so  far  worn  off  tho 
craving  for  revenue,  that  it  would  never  have  bren  actively 
revived,  perhaps,  but  for  the  unfortunate  allusions  of  the 
victim  himself,  to  the  subject.  Captain  Willoughby  had 
been  an  Knglish  soldier,  of  the  school  of  the  last  century. 
lli  was  naturally  a  humane  and  a  just  man,  but  he  believed 
in  the  military  axiom  that  "the  most  flogging  regiments 
were  the  best  fighting  regiments;"  and  perhaps  he  was  not 
in  error,  as  regards  the  lower  English  character.  It  was  a 
fatal  error,  however,  to  make  in  relation  to  an  American 
savage  ;  one  who  had  formerly  exercised  the  functions,  and 
who  had  not  lost  all  the  feelings,  of  a  chief.  Unhappily,  at 
a  moment  when  everything  depended  on  the  fidelity  of  tho 
Tuscarora,  the  captain  had  bethought  him  of  his  old  expe 
dient  for  insuring  prompt  obedience,  and,  by  way  of  a  re 
minder,  he  made  an  allusion  to  his  former  mode  of  punish 
ment.  As  Nick  would  have  expressed  it,  "  the  old  sorea 
smarted  ;"  the  wavering  purpose  of  thirty  years  was  sud 
denly  and  fiercely  revived,  and  the  knife  passed  into  tho 
heart  of  the  victim,  with  a  rapidity  that  left  no  time  for  ap 
peals  to  the  tribunal  of  God's  mercy.  In  half  a  minute, 
Captain  WiUoughby  had  ceased  to  breathe. 

Such  bad  boon  the  act  of  the  man  who  now  passed  through 
the  opening  of  the  palisade,  and  entered  the  former  I: 
tion  of  his  victim.  A  profound  stillness  rei<_nu>d  -n  and 
around  tho  Hut,  and  no  one  appeared  to  question  the  unex 
pected  intruder.  Nick  passed,  with  his  noiseless  >tep,  round 
to  the  gnte,  which  he  found  'secured.  It  was  necessary  to 
knock,  and  this  be  did  in  a  way  effectually  to  brinir  a  porter. 

••  Who  den-  .'"  demanded  the  elder  Pliny,  from  within. 

"  Good  friend—  open  gate.      Come  wid   message   from 
cap'in." 

The  natural  distaste  to  the  Indians  which  existed  among 


140  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

the  blacks  of  the  Knoll,  included  the  Tuscarora.  This  disgust 
was  mingled  with  a  degree  of  dread ;  and  it  was  difficult 
for  beings  so  untutored  and  ignorant,  at  all  times  to  draw 
the  proper  distinctions  between  Indian  and  Indian.  In  their 
wonder-loving  imaginations,  Oneidas,  Tuscaroras,  Mohawks, 
Onondagas,  arid  Iroquois  were  all  jumbled  together  in  inex 
tricable  confusion,  a  red  man  being  a  red  man,  and  a  sa 
vage  a  savage.  It  is  not-  surprising,  therefore,  that  Pliny 
the  elder  should  hesitate  about  opening  the  gate,  and  ad 
mitting  one  of  the  detested  race,  though  a  man  so  well 
known  to  them  all,  in  the  peculiar  situation  of  the  family. 
Luckily,  Great  Smash  happened  to  be  near,  and  her  hus 
band  called  her  to  the  gate  by  one  of  the  signals  thai  was 
much  practised  between  them. 

"  Who  you  t'ink  out  dere?"  asked  Pliny  the  elder  of  his 
consort,  with  a  very  significant  look. 

"How  you  t'ink  guess,  ole  Plin? — You  'spose  nigger 
wench  like  Albonny  wise  woman,  dat  she  see  t'rough  a 
gate,  and  know  ebbery  t'ing,  and  little  more !" 

"  Well,  dat  Sassy  Nick.     What  you  say  now  ?" 

"  You  sartain,  ole  Plin?"  asked  Mistress  Smash,  with  a 
face  ominous  of  evil. 

*'  Sartain  as  ear.  Talk  wid  him — he  want  to  come  in. 
What  you  t'ink  ?" 

"  Nebber  open  gate,  ole  Plin,  till  mistress  tell  you.  You 
stay  here — dere  ;  lean  ag'in  gate  wid  all  you  might ;  dere  ; 
now  I  go  call  Miss  Maud.  She  all  alone  in  librarim,  and 
will  know  what  best.  Mind  you  lean  ag'in  gate  well,  ole 
Plin." 

Pliny  the  elder  nodded  assent,  placed  his  shoulders  reso 
lutely  against  the  massive  timbers,  and  stood  propping  a 
defence  that  would  have  made  a  respectable  resistance  to  a 
battering-ram, 'like  another  Atlas,  upholding  a  world.  His 
duty  was  short,  however,  his  '  lady'  soon  returning  with 
Maud,  who  was  hastening  breathlessly  to  learn  the  news. 

"  Is  it  you,  Nick  ?"  called  out  the  sweet  voice  of  our  he 
roine  through  the  crevices  of  the  timber. 

The  Tuscarora  started,  as  he  so  unexpectedly  heard 
those  familiar  sounds  ;  for  an  instant,  his  look  was  dark  ; 
then  the  expression  changed  to  pity  and  concern,  and  his 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  Ill 

reply  was  given  \\ith  less  than  usual  of  the  abrupt,  guttural 
brevity  that  belonged  to  his  habits. 

"  Tis  Nick— Sassy  Nick— Wyandotte,  Flower  of  the 
Woods,"  for  so  the  Indian  often  termed  Maud. — "Got 
oewfl — cap'iii  send  him.  Meet  party  and  go  along.  No 
body  here;  only  Wyandotte.  Nick  see  major,  too — say 
somet'ing  to  young  squaw." 

This  decided  the  matter.  The  gate  was  unbarred,  and 
Nick  in  the  court  in  half-a-minute.  Great  Smash  stole  a 
glance  without,  and  beckoned  Pliny  the  elder  to  join  her, 
in  order  to  see  the  extraordinary  spectacle  of  Joel  and  his 
associates  toiling  in  the  fields.  When  they  drew  in  their 
heads,  Maud  and  her  companion  were  already  in  the  library. 
The  message  from  Robert  Willoughby  had  induced  our  he- 
roine  to  seek  this  room  ;  for,  placing  little  confidence  in  the 
delicacy  of  the  messenger,  she  recoiled  from  listening  to  his 
words  in  the  presence  of  others. 

But  Nick  was  in  no  haste  to  speak.  He  took  the  chair 
to  which  Maud  motioned,  and  he  sate  looking  at  her,  in  a 
way  that  soon  excited  her  alarm. 

'*  Tell  me,  if  your  heart  has  any  mercy  in  it,  Wyandotte  ; 
has  aught  happened  to  Major  Willoughby?" 

"  He  well — laugh,  talk,  feel  good.  Mind  nol'ing.  He 
prisoner  ;  don't  touch  he  scalp." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  wear  so  ominous  a  look — your  face 
is  the  very  harbinger  of  evil." 

"  Bad  news,  if  trut'  must  come.  '  What  you'  name,  young 
squaw  ?'' 

"Surely,  surely,  you  must  know  that  well,  Nick!  I  am 
Maud  —  your  old"  friend,  Maud." 

41  Pale-face  hab  two  name — Tuscarora  got  t'ree.  Some 
time,  Nick  —  sometime,  Sassy  Nick  —  sometime,  Wyan 
dotte." 

"You  know  my  name  is  Maud  Willoughby,"  returned 
our  heroine,  colouring  to  the  temples  with  a  certain  secret 
consciousness  of  her  error,  but  preferring  to  keep  up  old 
appearan 

"  Dat  call  you'  fader's  name,  Meredit';  no  Willoughby.'' 

"  Merciful  Providence !  and  has  this  great  secret  been 
known  to  you,  too,  Nick  !" 

*'  He  no  secret — know  all  about  him.    Wyandotte  dere.— 


142  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

See  Major  Meredit'  shot.  He  good  chief — nebber  flog — • 
nebber  strike  Injin.  Nick  know  fader,  know  moder — know 
squaw,  when  pappoose." 

"  And  why  have  you  chosen  this  particular  moment  to 
tell  me  all  this?  Has  it  any  relation  to  your  message- — to 
Bob  —  to  Major  Willoughby,  I  mean  ?"  demanded  Maud, 
nearly  gasping  for  breath. 

*'  No  relation,  tell  you,"  said  Nick,  a  little  angrily. 
"  Why  make  relation,  when  no  relation  at  all.  Meredit' ; 
no  Willoughby.  Ask  moder  ;  ask  major  ;  ask  chaplain  — 
all  tell  trut' !  No  need  to  be  so  feelin' ;  no  you  fader,  at 
all." 

"What  can  you — what  do  you  mean,  Nick?  Why  do 
you  look  so  wild — so  fierce — so  kind' — so  sorrowful — so 
angry  1  You  must  have  bad  news  to  tell  me." 

"  Why  bad  to  you — he  no  fader — only  fader  friend.  You 
can't  help  it — fader  die  when  you  pappoose — why  you  care, 
now,  for  dis  ?" 

Maud  now  actually  gasped  for  breath.  A  frightful  glimpse 
of  the  truth  gleamed  before  her  imagination,  though  it 
was  necessarily  veiled  in  the  mist  of  uncertainty.  She 
became  pale  as  death,  and  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  heart, 
as  if  to  still  its  beating.  Then,  by  a  desperate  effort,  she 
became  more  calm,  and  obtained  the  power  to  speak. 

"  Oh  !  is  it  so,  Nick !  —  can  it  be  so !"  she  said ;  "  my 
father  has  fallen  in  this  dreadful  business  1" 

"  Fader  kill  twenty  year  ago  ;  tell  you  dat,  how  often  ?" 
answered  the  Tuscarora,  angrily  ;  for,  in  his  anxiety  to 
lessen  the  shock  to  Maud,  for  whom  this  wayward  savage 
had  a  strange  sentiment  of  affection,  that  had  grown  out  of 
her  gentle  kindnesses  to  himself,  on  a  hundred  occasions, 
he  fancied  if  she  knew  that  Captain  Willoughby  was  not 
actually  her  father,  her  grief  at  his  loss  would  be  less. 
"  Why  you  call  dis  fader,  when  dat  fader.  Nick  know 
fader  and  moder.  —  Major  no  broder." 

Notwithstanding  the  sensations  that  nearly  pressed  her 
to  the  earth,  the  tell-tale  blood  rushed  to  Maud's  cheeks, 
again,  at  this  allusion,  and  she  bowed  her  face  to  her  knees. 
The  action  gave  her  time  to  rally  her  faculties ;  and,  catch 
ing  a  glimpse  of  the  vast  importance  to  all  for  her  maintain- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  143 

ing  self-command,  she  was  enabled  to  raise  her  face  with 
something  like  the  fortitude  the  Indian  hoped  to  • 

"Trifle  with  me  no  lonjM-r,  \Vyundotte,  but  let  me  know 
the  worst  at  once.  Is  my  father  dead? — By  father,  I  mean 
captain  Willoughby  ?" 

"Mean wrong,  den  —  no  fader,  tell  you.     Why  yoang 
quaw  so  much  like  Mohawk  ?" 

-  Man — js  captain  Willoughby  killed?" 

Nick  gazed  intently  into  Maud's  face  for  half  a  minute, 
and  then  he  nodded  an  assent.  Notwithstanding  all  her 
resolutions  to  be  steady,  our  heroine  nearly  sauk  under  the 
blow.  For  ten  minutes  she  spoke  not,  but  sat,  her  head  bowed 
to  her  knees,  in  a  confusion  of  thought  that  threatened  a 
temporary  loss  of  reason.  Happily,  a  flood  of  tears  relieved 
her,  and  she  became  more  calm.  Then  the  necessity  of 
knowing  more,  in  order  that  she  might  act  intelligently,  oc 
curred  to  her  mind,  and  she  questioned  Nick  in  a  way  to 
elicit  all  it  suited  the  savage  to  reveal. 

Maud's  first  impulse  was  to  go  out  to  meet  the  body  of 
the  captain,  and  to  ascertain  for  herself  that  there  was  ac 
tually  no  longer  any  hope.  Nick's  account  had  been  so 
laconic  as  to  leave  much  obscurity,  and  the  blow  had  been 
so  sudden  she  could  hardly  credit  the  truth  in  its  full  extent. 
Still,  there  remained  the  dreadful  tidings  to  be  communicated 
to  those  dear  beings,  who,  while  they  feared  so  much,  had 
never  anticipated  a  calamity  like  this.  Even  Mrs.  Wil 
loughby,  sensitive  as  she  was,  and  wrapped  up  in  those  she 
loved  so  entirely,  as  she  was  habitually,  had  been  so  long 
accustomed  to  see  and  know  of  her  husband's  exposing 
himself  with  impunity,  as  to  begin  to  feel,  if  not  to  think, 
that  he  bore  a  charmed  life.  All  this  customary  confid'  in •<• 
was  to  be  overcome,  and  the  truth  was  to  be  said.  Tell  the 
fact  to  her  mother,  Maud  felt  that  she  could  not  then  ; 
scarcely  under  any  circumstances  would  she  have  consented 
to  perform  this  melancholy  office ;  but,  so  long  as  a  shadow 
of  doubt  remained  on  the  subject  of  her  father's  actual  de- 
cctso,  it  seemed  cruel  even  to  think  of  it.  Her  decision  was 
to  send  for  Beulah,  and  it  was  done  by  means  of  one  of 
the  negresses. 

So  long  as  we  feel  that  there  are  others  to  be  sustained 
by  our  fortitude,  even  the  feeblest  possess  a  firmness  to 


144  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

which  they  might  otherwise  be  strangers.  Maud,  contrary 
to  what  her  delicate  but  active  frame  and  sweetness  of  dis« 
position  might  seem  to  indicate,  was  a  young  woman  capa 
ble  of  the  boldest  exertions,  short  of  taking  human  life.  Her 
frontier  training  had  raised  her  above  most  of  the  ordinary 
weaknesses  of  her  sex ;  and,  so  far  as  determination  went, 
few  men  were  capable  of  higher  resolution,  when  circum 
stances  called  for  its  display.  Her  plan  was  now  made  up 
to  go  forth  and  meet  the  body,  and  nothing  short  of  a  com 
mand  from  her  mother  could  have  stopped  her.  In  this 
frame  of  mind  was  our  heroine,  when  Beulah  made  her  ap 
pearance. 

"  Maud !"  exclaimed  the  youthful  matron,  "  what  has 
happened  !  —  why  are  you  so  pale  !  —  why  send  for  me ? 
Does  Nick  bring  us  any  tidings  from  the  mill  V 

"The  worst  possible,  Beulah.  My  father  —  my  dear, 
dear  father  is  hurt.  They  have  borne  him  as  far  as  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  where  they  have  halted,  in  order  not  to 
take  us  by  surprise.  I  am  going  to  meet  the  —  to  meet  the 
men,  and  to  bring  father  in.  You  must  prepare  mother  for 
the  sad,  sad  tidings — yes,  Beulah,  for  the  worst,  as  every 
thing  depends  on  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  !" 

"  Oh!  Maud,  this  is  dreadful !"  exclaimed  the  sister,  sink 
ing  into  a  chair — "  What  will  become  of  mother  —  of  little 
Evert— of  us  all!" 

"  The  providence  of  the  Ruler  of  heaven  and  earth  will 
care  for  us.  Kiss  me,  dear  sister  —  how  cold  you  are  — 
rouse  yourself,  Beulah,  for  mother's  sake.  Think  how  much 
more  she  must  feel  than  we  possibly  can,  and  then  be  reso 
lute." 

"  Yes,  Maud — very  true — no  woman  can  feel  like  a  wife 
— unless  it  be  a  mother — " 

Here  Beulah's  words  were  stopped  by  her  fainting. 

"  You  see,  Smash,"  said  Maud,  pointing  to  her  sister 
with  a  strange  resolution,  "  she  must  have  air,  and  a  little 
water — and  she  has  salts  about  her,  I  know.  Come,  Nick  ; 
we  have  no  more  time  to  waste — you  must  be  my  guide." 

The  Tuscarora  had  been  a  silent  observer  of  this  scene, 
and  if  it  did  not  awaken  remorse  in  his  bosom,  it  roused 
feelings  that  nad  never  before  been  its  inmates.  The  sight 
of  two  such  beings  suffering  under  a  blow  that  his  own 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  145 

hand  had  struck,  was  novel  to  him,  and  lie  knew  not  which 
to  encourage  most,  a  sentiment  allied  to  regret,  or  a  fierce 
resentment,  that  any  should  dare  thus  to  reproach,  though  it 
were  only  by  yielding  to  the  grid'  natural  to  their  situation. 
But  .Maud  had  obtained  a  command  over  him,  that  he  knew 
not  how  to  resist,  and  he  followed  her  from  the  room,  k«  <-.,. 
in:;  his  eyes  riveted  the  while  on  the  pallid  face  of  Bculali. 
The  last  was  recalled  from  her  insensibility,  however,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  through  the  practised  attentions 
of  the  negresses. 

Maud  waited  for  nothing.  Motioning  impatiently  for  the 
Tuscarora  to  lead  the  way,  she  glided  after  him  with  a  ra 
pidity  that  equalled  his  own  loping  movement.  She  made 
no  difficulties  in  passing  the  stockade,  though  Nick  kept  his 
eyes  on  the  labourers,  and  felt  assured  their  exeunt  was  not 
noticed.  Once  by  the  path  that  led  along  the  rivulet,  Maud 
refused  all  precautions,  but  passed  swiftly  over  it,  partially 
concealed  by  its  bushes.  Her  dress  was  dark,  and  left  little 
liability  to  exposure.  As  for  Nick,  his  forest  attire,  like  the 
hunting  shirt  of  the  whites,  was  expressly  regulated  by  the 
wish  to  go  to  and  fro  unseen. 

In  less  than  three  minutes  after  the  Indian  and  Maud  had 
passed  the  gate,  they  were  drawing  near  to  the  melancholy 
group  t^at  had  halted  in  the  forest.  Our  heroine  was  re 
cognised  as  she  approached,  and  when  she  came  rushing  up 
to  the  spot,  all  made  way,  allowing  her  to  fall  upon  her 
knees  by  the  side  of  the  lifeless  body,  bathing  the  placid 
face  of  the  dead  with  her  tears,  and  covering  it  with  kisses. 

"  Is  there  no  hope — oh !  Joyce,"  she  cried,  "  can  it  bo 
possible  that  my  father  is  actually  dead  ?" 

"  I  fear,  Miss  Maud,  that  his  honour  has  made  his  last 
march.  He  has  received  orders  to  go  hence,  and,  like  a 
gallant  soWier  as  he  was,  he  has  obeyed,  without  a  mur 
mur  ;"  answered  the  serjeant,  endeavouring  to  appear  firm 
and  soldier-like,  himself.  "  We  have  lost  a  noble  and  hu 
mane  commander,  and  you  a  most  excellent  and  tender 
father." 

"No  fader," — growled  Nick,  at  the  Serjeant's  elbow, 
twitching  his  sleeve,  at  the  same  time,  to  attract  attention. 
"  Serjeant  know  her  fader.     He  by ;  I  by,  when  Iroquoia 
shoot  him." 
VOL.  II.— 13 


146  THE     HUTTED     KNCLL. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Tuscarora,  nor  do  I  think  you 
altogether  understand  us  ;  the  less  you  say,  therefore,  the 
better  for  all  parties.  It  is  our  duty,  Miss  Maud,  to  say 
*  God's  will  be  done,'  and  the  soldier  who  dies  in  the  dis 
charge  of  his  duty  is  never  to  be  pitied.  I  sincerely  wish 
that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woods  was  here ;  he  would  tell  you  all 
this  in  a  manner  that  would  admit  of  no  dispute;  as  for 
myself,  I  am  a  plain  man,  Miss  Maud,  and  my  tongue  can 
not  utter  one-half  that  my  heart  feels  at  this  instant." 

"  Ah  !  Joyce,  what  a  friend — what  a  parent  has  it  pleased 
God  to  call  to  himself!" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Maud,  that  may  be  said  with  great  justice — • 
if  his  honour  has  left  us  in  obedience  to  general  orders,  it 
is  to  meet  promotion  in  a  service  that  will  never  weary,  and 
never  end." 

"  So  kind  ;  so  true ;  so  gentle  ;  so  just ;  so  affectionate  !" 
said  Maud,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  And  so  brave,  young  lady.  His  honour,  captain  Wil- 
loughoy,  was  n't  one  of  them  that  is  always  talking,  and 
writing,  and  boasting  about  fighting ;  but  when  anything 
was  to  be  done,  the  Colonel  always  knew  whom  to  send  on 
the  duty.  The  army  could  n't  have  lost  a  braver  gentle 
man,  had  he  remained  in  it." 

"  Oh  !  my  father — my  father," — cried  Maud,  in  bitter 
ness  of  sorrow,  throwing  herself  on  the  body  and  embra 
cing  it,  as  had  been  her  wont  in  childhood — "  would  that  I 
could  have  died  for  you  !" 

"  Why  you  let  go  on  so,"  grumbled  Nick,  again.  "  No 
her  fader — you  know  dat,  serjeant." 

Joyce  was  not  in  a  state  to  answer.  His  own  feelings 
had  been  kept  in  subjection  only  by  military  pride,  but  they 
now  had  become  so  nearly  uncontrollable,  that  he  found 
himself  obliged- to  step  a  little  aside  in  order  to  conceal  his 
weakness.  As  it  was,  large  tears  trickled  down  his  rugged 
face,  like  water  flowing  from  the  fissures  of  the  riven  oak 
Jamie  Allen's  constitutional  prudence,  however,  now  became 
active,  admonishing  the  party  of  the  necessity  of  their  get 
ting  within  the  protection  of  the  Hut. 

"  Death  is  at  a'  times  awfu',"  said  the  mason,  "  but  it 
must  befall  young  and  auld  alike.  And  the  affleection  it 
brings  cometh  fra"  the  heart,  and  is  a  submission  to  the  la' 


THE      11  UT  TED     KNOLL.  147 

o'  nature.  Nevertheless  \vc  a'  h;ic  our  duties,  so  lang  gj 
we  remain  in  tin-  ilr>h,  and  it  is  time  to  be  thinking  o'  car- 
ryin'  the  body  into  >ume  plaru  u1  sali-ty,  while  we  hae  a 
prudent  regard  to  our  ain  conditions  also." 

Maud  had  risen,  and,  hearing  this  appeal,  she  drew  baek 
m-ekly,  a>sumed  a  manner  of  forced  composure,  and  signed 
to  the  men  to  proceed.  On  this  intimation,  the  body  \\a> 
raised,  and  the  melancholy  procession  resumed  its  niaivh. 

F»r  the  purpose  of  concealment,  Joyce  led  the  way  into 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  leaving  Maud  waiting  their  move 
ments,  a  little  deeper  within  the  forest.  As  soon  as  he  and 
his  fellow-bearers  were  in  the  water,  Joyce  turned  and  de 
sired  Nick  to  escort  the  young  lady  in,  again,  on  dry  land, 
or  by  the  path  along  which  she  had  come  out.  This  said, 
the  Serjeant  and  his  companions  proceeded.  Maud  stood 
gazing  on  the  sad  spectacle  like  one  entranced,  until  she 
ie.lt  a  sleeve  pulled,  and  perceived  the  Tuscarora  at  her  side. 

"  Xo  go  to  Hut,"  said  Nick,  earnestly  ;  "  go  wid  Wyan 
dotte." 

"  Not  follow  my  dear  father's  remains — not  go  to  my  be 
loved  mother  in  her  anguish.  You  know  not  what  you  ask, 
Indian — move,  and  let  me  proceed."  * 

"  Xo  go  home — no  use — no  good.  Cap'in  dead — what 
do  widout  commander.  Come  wid  Wyandotte — find  major 
— den  do  some  good." 

Maud  fairly  started  in  her  surprise.  There  seemed  some 
thing  so  truly  useful,  so  consoling,  so  dear  in  this  proposal, 
that  it  instantly  caught  her  ear. 

"  Find  the  Major  !"  she  answered.  "  Is  that  possible, 
Nick?  My  poor  father  perished  in  making  that  attempt — 
what  hope  can  there  be  then  for  my  success  ?" 

**  Plenty  hope — much  as  want — all,  want.  Come  wid 
Wyandotte — he  great  chief — show  young  squaw  where  to 
find  broder." 

Here  was  a  touch  of  Nick's  consummate  art.  He  knew 
the  female  bosom  so  well  that  he  avoided  any  allusion  to  hi? 
knowledge  of  the  real  relation  between  Robert  Willouuhhv 
and  Maud,  though  he  had  so  recently  urged  her  want  of 
natural  affinity  to  the  family,  as  a  reason  why  she  should 
not  grieve.  By  keeping  the  Major  before  her  eyes  as  a 
brother,  the  chances  of  his  own  success  were  greatly  in- 


148  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

creased.  As  for  Maud,  a  tumult  of  feeling  came  over  her 
heart  at  this  extraordinary  proposal.  To  liberate  Bob,  to 
lead  him  into  the  Hut,  to  offer  his  manly  protection  to  her 
mother,  and"Beulah,  and  little  Evert,  at  such  an  instant, 
caught  her  imagination,  and  appealed  to  all  her  affections. 

"Can  you  do  this,  Tuscarora" — she  asked,  earnestly, 
pressing  her  hand  on  her  heart  as  if  to  quiet  its  throbbings. 
"  Can  you  really  lead  me  to  Major  Willoughby,  so  that  I 
may  have  some  hope  of  liberating  him?" 

"  Sartain — you  go,  he  come.  I  go,  he  no  come.  Don't 
love  Nick — fink  all  Injin,  one  Injin — fink  one  Injin,  all 
Injin.  You  go,  he  come — he  stay,  find  more  knife,  and  die 
like  Cap'in.  Young  squaw  Jollow  Wyandotte,  and  see." 

Maud  needed  no  more.  To  save  the  life  of  Bob,  her  well- 
beloved,  he  who  had  so  long  been  beloved  in  secret,  she 
would  have  gone  with  one  far  less  known  and  trusted  than 
the  Tuscarora.  She  made  an  eager  gesture  for  him  to  pro 
ceed,  arid  they  were  soon  on  their  way  to  the  mill,  threading 
the  mazes  of  the  forest. 

Nick  was  far  from  observing  the  precautions  that  had 
been  taken  by  the  captain,  in  his  unfortunate  march  out. 
Acquainted  with  every  inch  of  ground  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Dam,  and  an  eye-witness  of  the  dispositions  of  the  invaders, 
he  had  no  occasion  for  making  the  long  detour  already  de 
scribed,  but*  went  to  work  in  a  much  more  direct  manner. 
Instead  of  circling  the  valley,  and  the  clearing,  to  the  west 
ward,  he  turned  short  in  the  contrary  direction,  crossed  the 
rivulet  on  the  fallen  tree,  and  led  the  way  along  the  eastern 
margin  of  the  flats.  On  this  side  of  the  valley  he  knew 
there  were  no  enemies,  and  the  position  of  the  huts  and 
barns  enabled  him  to  follow  a  path,  that  was  just  deep 
enough  in  the  forest  to  conceal  his  movements.  By  taking 
this  course,  besides  having  the  advantage  of  a  clear  and 
beaten  path,  most  of  the  way,  the  Tuscarora  brought  the 
whole  distance  within  a  mile. 

As  for  Maud,  she  asked  no  questions,  solicited  no  pauses, 
manifested  no  physical  weakness.  Actively  as  the  Indian 
moved  among  the  trees,  she  kept  close  in  his  footsteps  ;  and 
she  had  scarcely  begun  to  reflect  on  the  real  nature  of  the 
undertaking  in  which  she  was  engaged,  when  the  roar  of  the 
rivulet,  ana  the  formation  of  the  land,  told  her  they  had 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  149 

reached  the  edge  of  the  glen  below  the  mills.  Here  Nick 
told  her  to  remain  stationary  a  moment,  while  he  advanced 
to  a  covered  point  of  the  rocks,  to  reconnoitre.  This  was 
the  place  \\here  tin-  Indian  had  made  his  first  observations 
of  the  invaders  of  the  valley,  ascertaining  their  real  charac 
ter  before  he  trusted  his  person  among  them.  On  the  pre 
sent  occasion,  his  object  was  to  see  if  all  remained,  in  and 
about  the  mills,  as  when  he  had  last  left  the  spot. 

"Come" — said  Nick,  signing  for  Maud  to  follow  him — 
"  we  go — fools  sleep,  and  eat,  and  talk.  Major  prisoner 
now;  half  an  hour,  Major  fi 

This  was  enough  for  the  ardent,  devoted,  generous- hears  d 
Maud.  She  descended  the  path  before  her  as  swiftly  as  her 
guide  could  lead,  and,  in  five  more  minutes,  they  reached  the 
bank  of  the  stream,  in  the.  glen,  at  a  point  where  a  curvature 
hid  the  rivulet  from  those  at  the  mill.  Here  an  enormous 
pine  had  been  laid  across  the  torrent ;  and,  flattened  on  its 
up[)er  surface,  it  made  a  secure  bridge  for  those  who  were 
sure  of  foot,  and  steady  of  eye.  Nick  glanced  back  at  his 
companion,  as  IK;  stepped  upon  this  bridge,  to  ascertain  if 
she  were  equal  to  crossing  it,  a  single  glance  sufficing  to  tell 
him  apprehensions  were  unnecessary.  Haifa  minute  placed 
both,  in  safety,  on  the  western  bank. 

.ood!"  muttered    the  Indian;  "young   squaw   make 
wife  lor  warrior." 

But  Maud  heard  neither  the  compliment  nor  the  expres 
sion  of  countenance  which  accompanied  it.  She  m<  r-  ly 
made  an  impatient  gesture  to  proceed.  Nick  gazed  intently 
at  the  excited  girl ;  and  there  was  an  instant  when  he  seemed 
to  waver  in  his  own  purpose;  but  the  gesture  rejieaied, 
caused  him  to  turn,  and  lead  the  way  up  the  glen. 

The  progress  of  Nick  now,  necessarily,  became  more 
guarded  and  slower.  He  was  soon  obliged  to  quit  the  com 
mon  path,  and  to  incline  to  the  left,  more  against  the  side 
of  the  cliff,  for  the  purposes  of  concealment.  From  the  time 
he  had  struck  the  simple  bridge,  until  he  took  this  precau 
tion,  his  course  had  lain  alonir  what  might  have  been  termed 
the  common  highway,  on  which  there  was  always  the  dan 
ger  of  meeting  some  messenger,  travelling  to  or  from  the 
valley. 

But  Nick  was  at  no  loss  for  paths.     There  were  plenty 
13* 


1 50  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

of  them ;  and  the  one  he  took  soon  brought  him  out  into  that 
by  which  Captain  Willoughby  had  descended  to  the  lean-to. 
When  the  spot  was  reached  where  Joyce  had  halted,  Nick 
paused  ;  and,  first  listening  intently,  to  catch  the  sound  of 
noises,  if  any  might  happen  to  be  in  dangerous  proximity,  he 
addressed  his  companion : 

"  Young  squaw  bold,"  he  said,  encouragingly  ;  "  now  want 
heart  of  warrior." 

"  I  can  follow,  Nick  —  having  come  so  far,  why  distrust 
me,  now  ?" 

"  'Cause  he  here — down  dere  —  woman  love  man  ;  man 
love  woman  —  dat  right ;  but,  no  show  it,  when  scalp  in 
danger." 

"  Perhaps  I  do  not  understand  you,  Tuscarora  —  but,  my 
trust  is  in  God ;  he  is  a  support  that  can  uphold  any  weak 
ness." 

"  Good  !  — stay  here  —  Nick  come  back,  in  minute." 

Nick  now  descended  to  the  passage  between  the  rocks 
and  the  lean-to,  in  order  to  make  certain  that  the  major  still 
remained  in  his  prison,  before  he  incurred  any  unnecessary 
risk  with  Maud.  Of  this  fact  he  was  soon  assured  ;  after 
which  he  took  the  precaution  to  conceal  the  pool  of  blood, 
by  covering  it  with  earth  and  stones.  Making  his  other 
observations  with  care,  and  placing  the  saw  and  chisel,  with 
the  other  tools,  that  had  fallen  from  the  captain's  hand,  when 
he  received  his  death-wound,  in  a  position  to  be  handy,  he 
ascended  the  path,  and  rejoined  Maud.  No  word  passed 
between  our  heroine  and  her  guide.  The  latter  motioned 
for  her  to  follow ;  then  he  led  the  way  down  to  the  cabin. 
Soon,  both  had  entered  the  narrow  passage ;  and  Maud,  in 
obedience  to  a  sign  from  her  companion,  seated  herself  on 
the  precise  spot  where  her  father  had  been  found,  and  where 
the  knife  had  passed  into  his  heart.  To  all  this,  however, 
Nick  manifested  the  utmost  indifference.  Everything  like 
ferocity  had  left  his  face ;  to  use  his  own  figurative  language, 
his  sores  smarted  no  longer ;  and  the  expression  of  his  eye 
was  friendly  and  gentle.  Still  it  showed  no  signs  of  com 
punction. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  151 


CHAPTER    XII. 

"  Her  pallid  face  display'd 

Something1,  mcthought,  surpassing  mortal  beauty. 
She  presently  turn'd  round,  and  fix'd  her  large,  wild  eyes, 
Brimming  with  tears,  upon  me,  fetch'd  a  sigh, 
As  from  a  riven  heart,  and  cried  :  u  He 's  dead  !" 

HlLLHOUSE. 

Mvri)  had  been  so  earnest,  and  so  much  excited,  that  she 
scarcely  reflected  on  the  singularity  and  novelty  of  her 
situation,  until  she  was  seated,  as  described  at  the  close  of 
the  last  chapter.  Then,  indeed,  she  began  to  think  that  she 
had  embarked  in  an  undertaking  of  questionable  prudence, 
and  to  wonder  in  what  manner  she  was  to  be  useful.  Still 
her  heart  did  not  fail  her,  or  her  hopes  altogether  sink. 
She  saw  that  Nick  was  grave  and  occupied,  like  a  man  who 
intended  to  effect  his  purpose  at  every  hazard  ;  and  that 
purpose  she  firmly  believed  was  the  liberation  of  Robert 
Willoughby. 

As  for  Nick,  the  instant  his  companion  was  seated,  and 
he  had  got  a  position  to  his  mind,  he  set  about  his  business 
with  great  assiduity.  It  has  been  said  that  the  lean-to,  liko 
the  cabin,  was  built  of  logs ;  a  fact  that  constituted  tho 
security  of  the  prisoner.  The  logs  of  the  lean-to,  however, 
were  much  smaller  than  those  of  the  body  of  the  house,  and 
both  were  of  the  common  white  pine  of  the  country  ;  a  wood  ••• 
of  durable  qualities,  used  as  it  was  here,  but  which  yielded 
easily  to  edged  tools.  Nick  had  a  small  saw,  a  large  chisel, 
and  his  knife.  With  the  chisel,  he  cautiously  commenced 
opening  a  hole  of  communication  with  the  interior,  by 
removing  a  little  of  the  mortar  that  filled  the  interstices 
between  the  logs.  This  occupied  but  a  moment.  When 
effected,  Nick  applied  an  eye  to  the  hole  and  took  a  look 
within.  He  muttered  the  word  "  good,"  then  withdrew  his 
own  eye,  and,  by  a  sign,  invited  Maud  to  apply  one  of  hers. 
This  our  heroine  did,  and  saw  Robert  Willoughby,  reading 
\vithin  a  few  feet  of  her,  with  a  calmness  of  air,  that  at  onco 


152  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

announced  his  utter  ignorance  of  the  dire  event  that  had  so 
lately  occurred,  almost  within  reach  of  his  arm. 

"  Squaw  speak,"  whispered  Nick  ;  "  voice  sweet  as  wren 
— go  to  Major's  ear  like  song  of  bird. — Squaw  speak  music 
to  young  warrior." 

Maud  drew  back,  her  heart  beat  violently,  her  breathing 
became  difficult,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  her  temples.  But 
an  earnest  motion  from  Nick  reminded  her  this  was  no  time 
for  hesitation,  and  she  applied  her  mouth  to  the  hole. 

"Robert  —  dear  Robert,"  she  said,  in  a  loud  whisper, 
"  we  are  here — have  come  to  release  you." 

Maud's  impatience  could  wait  no  longer ;  but  her  eye 
immediately  succeeded  her  mouth.  That  she  was  heard 
was  evident  from  the  circumstance  that  the  book  fell  from 
the  Major's  hand,  in  a  way  to  show  how  completely  he  was 
taken  by  surprise.  "  He  knows  even  my  whispers,"  thought 
Maud,  her  heart  beating  still  more  violently,  as  she  observed 
the  young  soldier  gazing  around  him,  with  a  bewildered  air, 
like  one  who  fancied  he  had  heard  the  whisperings  of  some 
ministering  angel.  By  this  time,  Nick  had  removed  a  long 
piece  of  the  mortar  ;  and  he  too,  was  looking  into  the  but 
tery.  By  way  of  bringing  matters  to  an  understanding,  the 
Indian  thrust  the  chisel  through  the  opening,  and,  moving 
it,  he  soon  attracted  Willoughby's  attention.  The  latter 
instantly  advanced,  and  applied  his  own  eye  to  the  wide 
crack,  catching  a  view  of  the  swarthy  face  of  Nick. 

Willoughby  knew  that  the  presence  of  this  Indian,  at  such 
a  place,  and  under  such  circumstances,  indicated  the  neces 
sity  of  caution.  He  did  not  speak,  therefore ;  but,  first 
making  a  significant  gesture  towards  the  door  of  his  narrow 
prison,  thus  intimating  the  close  proximity  of  sentinels,  he 
demanded  the  object  of  this  visit,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Come  to  set,  major  free,"  answered  Nick. 

"  Can  I  trust  you,  Tuscarora  ?  Sometimes  you  seem  a 
friend,  sometimes  an  enemy.  I  know  that  you  appear  to  be 
on  good  terms  with  my  captors." 

"  Dat  good — Injin  know  how  to  look  two  way — warrior 
TTiust,  if  great  warrior." 

"  I  wish  I  had  some  proof,  Nick,  that  you  are  dealing 
with  me  in  good  faith." 

"  Call  dat  proof,  den !"  growled  the  savage,  seizing  Maud's 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  153 

little  hand,  and  passing  it  through  the  opcniiur,  before  tho 
startled  girl  was  fully  aware  of  what  he  nx-aut  to  d<>. 

Willoughby  knew  the  hand  at  a  glance.  I  !<•  would  have 
recognised  it,  in  that  forest  solitude,  by  its  symmetry  and 
whiteness,  its  delicacy  anil  its  fullness;  hut  one  of  tin-  taper 
lingers  wore  a  ring  that,  of  late,  Maud  had  much  used  ; 
heiiiLT  a  diamond  hoop  that  she  had  learned  was  a  favourite 
ornament  of  her  real  mother's.  It  is  not  surprising,  there 
fore,  that  he  seized  the  pledge  that  was  thus  strangely  held 
litrih,  and  had  covered  it  with  kisses,  before  Maud  had  pre 
sence  of  mind  sufficient,  or  strength  to  reclaim  it.  This 
she  would  not  do,  however,  at  such  a  moment,  without  re 
turning  all  the  proofs  of  ardent  affection  that  were  lavished 
on  her  own  hand,  by  giving  a  gentle  pressure  to  the  one  in 
which  it  was  clasped. 

"  This  is  so  strange,  Maud  ! — so  every  way  extraordinary, 
that  I  know  not  what  to  think,"  the  young  man  whispered, 
soon  as  he  could  get  a  glimpse  of  the  face  of  the  sweet  girl. 
44  Why  are  you  here,  beloved,  and  in  such  company?" 

"You  will  trust  me,  Bob  —  Nick  comes  as  your  friend. 
Aid  him  all  you  can,  now,  and  be  silent.  When  free,  then 
will  be  the  time  to  learn  all." 

A  sign  of  assent  succeeded,  and  the  major  withdrew  a 
step,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  course  Nick  meant  to  pursue. 
By  this  time,  the  Indian  was  at  work  with  his  knife,  and  ho 
soon  passed  the  chisel  in  to  the  prisoner,  who  seized  it,  and 
commenced  rutting  into  the  logs,  at  a  point  opposite  to  that 
where  the  Tuscarora  was  whittling  away  the  wood.  The 
object  was  to  introduce  the  saw,  and  it  required  some  labour 
to  effect  such  a  purpose.  By  dint  of  application,  hov. 
and  by  cutting  the  log  above  as  well  as  that  below,  sufficient 
space  was  obtained  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes.  Xi'-k 
then  passed  the  saw  in,  through  the  opening,  it  exceeding 
his  skill  to  use  such  a  tool  with  readiness. 

By  this  time,  Willoughby  was  en<ia£red  with  the  ear 
ness  and  zeal  of  the  captive  who  catches  a  glimpse  of  lib 
erty.  Notwithstanding,  he  proceeded  intelligently  and  with 
caution.  The  blanket  given  him  by  his  captors,  as  a  pallet, 
was  hanging  from  a  nail,  and  he  took  the  precaution  to 
draw  this  nail,  and  to  place  it  above  the  spot  selected  for  the 
cut,  that  he  might  suspend  the  blanket  so  as  to  conceal 


lf>4  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

what  he  was  at,  in  the  event  of  a  visit  from  without.  When 
all  was  ready,  and  the  blanket  was  properly  placed,  he 
began  to  make  long  heavy  strokes  with  the  tool,  in  a  way 
to  deaden  the  sound.  This  was  a  delicate  operation ;  but 
the  work's  being  done  behind  the  blanket,  had  some  effect  in 
lessening  the  noise.  As  the  work  proceeded,  Willoughby's 
hopes  increased  ;  and  he  was  soon  delighted  to  hear  from 
Nick,  that  it  was  time  to  insert  the  saw  in  another  place. 
Success  is  apt  to  induce  carelessness  ;  and,  as  the  task  pro 
ceeded,  Willoughby's  arm  worked  with  greater  rapidity, 
until  a  noise  at  the  door  gave  the  startling  information  that 
he  was  about  to  be  visited.  There  was  just  time  to  finish 
the  last  cut,  and  to  let  the  blanket  fall,  before  the  door 
opened.  The  saw-dust  and  chips  had  all  been  carefully  re 
moved,  as  the  work  proceeded,  and  of  these  none  were  left 
to  betray  the  secret. 

There  might  have  been  a  quarter  of  a  minute  between 
the  moment  when  Willoughby  seated  himself,  with  his  book 
in  his  hand,  and  that  in  which  the  door  opened.  Short  as 
was  this  interval,  it  sufficed  for  Nick  to  remove  the  piece  of 
log  last  cut,  and  to  take  away  the  handle  of  the  saw ;  the 
latter  change  permitting  the  blanket  to  hang  so  close  against 
the  logs  as  completely  to  conceal  the  hole.  The  sentinel 
who  appeared  was  an  Indian  in  externals, 'but  a  dull,  white 
countryman  in  fact  and  character. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  saw,  major,"  he  said, 
listlessly ;  "  yet  everything  looks  quiet,  and  in  its  place 
here  !"  ' 

"  Where  should  I  get  such  a  tool  ?"  Willoughby  coolly 
replied  ;  "  and  what  is  there  here  to  saw  ?" 

"  'Twas  as  nat'ral,  too,  as  the  carpenter  himself  could 
make  it,  in  sound  !" 

"  Possibly  the  mill  has  been  set  in  motion  by  some  of 
your  idlers,  and  you  have  heard  the  large  saw,  which,  at  a 
distance,  may  sound  like  a  smaller  one  near  by." 

The  man  looked  incredulously  at  his  prisoner  for  a  mo 
ment  ;  then  he  drew  to  the  door,  with  the  air  of  one  who 
was  determined  to  assure  himself  of  the  truth,  calling  aloud, 
as  he  did  so,  to  one  of  his  companions  to  join  him.  Wil 
loughby  knew  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  In  half-a-minute, 
he  had  passed  the  hole,  dropped  the  blanket  before  it,  had 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  155 

circled  the  slender  waist  of  Maud  with  one  arm,  and  was 
shoving  aside  the  bushes  with  the  other,  as  lie  followed 
Nick  from  the  straitened  passage  between  the  lean-to  and 
the  rock.  The  major  seemed  more  bent  on  hearing  Maud 
iVnin  the  spot,  than  on  saving  himself.  Her  feet  scarce 
touched  tin:  ground,  as  he  ascended  to  the  place  where 
had  halted.  Here  Nick  stood  an  instant,  with  i\ 
finger  raised  in  intense  listening.  His  practised  ears  caught 
the  sound  of  voices  in  the  lean-to,  then  scarce  fifty  feet  dis 
tant.  Men  called  to  each  other  by  name,  and  then  a  voice 
directly  beneath  them,  proclaimed  that  a  head  was  already 
thrust  through  the  hole. 

"  Here  is  your  saw,  and  here  is  its  workmanship!"  ex 
claimed  this  voice. 

"  And  here  is  blood,  too,"  said  another.  "  See !  the 
ground  has  been  a  pool  beneath  those  stones." 

.Maud  shuddered,  as  if  the  soul  were  leaving  its  earthly 
tenement,  and  Willoughby  signed  impatiently  for  Nick  to 
proceed.  But  the  savage,  for  a  brief  instant,  seemed  be 
wildered.  The  danger  below,  however,  increased,  and 
evidently  drew  so  near,  that  he  turned  and  glided  up  the 
ascent.  Presently,  the  fugitives  reached  the  descending 
path,  that  diverged  from  the  larger  one  they  were  on,  and 
by  which  Nick  and  Maud  had  so  recently  come  diagonally 
up  this  cliif.  Nick  leaped  into  it,  and  then  the  intervening 
bushes  concealed  their  persons  from  any  who  might  continue 
on  the  upward  course.  There  was  an  open  space,  however, 
a  little  lower  down  ;  and  the  quick-witted  savage  came  to 
a  stand  under  a  close  cover,  believing  flight  to  be  useless 
should  their  pursuers  actually  follow  on  their  heels. 

The  halt  had  not  b"en  made  half-a-dozen  seconds,  when 
the  voices  of  the  party  ascending  in  chase,  were  heard 
above  the  fugitives.  Willoughby  felt  an  impulse  to  dash 
down  the  path,  bearing  Maud  in  his  arms,  but  Nick  inter 
posed  his  own  body  to  so  rash  a  movement.  There  was 
not  time  for  a  discussion,  and  the  sounds  of  voices,  speaking 
English  loo  distinctly  to  pass  for  any  but  those  of  men  of 
English  birth,  or  English  origin,  wen-  hoard  disputing  about 
the  course  to  be  taken,  at  the  point  of  junction  between  the 
two  paths. 

"  Go  by  the  lower,  "called  out  one,  from  the  rear ;  "  he 


156  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

will  run  down  the  stream,  and  make  for  the  settlements  on 
the  Hudson.  Once  before,  he  has  done  this,  as  I  know  from 
Strides  himself." 

"  D — n  Strides  !"  answered  another,  more  in  front.  "  He 
is  a  sniveling  scoundrel,  who  loves  liberty,  as  a  hog  loves 
corn ;  for  the  sake  of  good  living.  I  say  go  the  upper, 
which  will  carry  him  on  the  heights,  and  bring  him  out 
near  his  father's  garrison." 

"  Here  are  marks  of  feet  on  the  upper,"  observed  a  third, 
"  though  they  seem  to  be  coming  down,  instead  of  going  up 
the  hill." 

"  It  is  the  trail  of  the  fellows  who  have  helped  him  to 
escape.  Push  up  the  hill,  and  we  shall  have  them  all  in  ten 
minutes.  Push  up — push  z/p." 

This  decided  the  matter.  It  appeared  to  Willoughby  that 
at  least  a  dozen  men  ran  up  the  path,  above  his  head,  eager 
in  the  pursuit,  and  anticipating  success.  Nick  waited  no 
longer,  but  glided  down  the  cliff,  and  was  soon  in  the  broad 
path  which  led  along  the  margin  of  the  stream,  and  was  the 
ordinary  thoroughfare  in  going  to  or  from  the  Knoll.  Here 
the  fugitives,  as  on  the  advance,  were  exposed  to  the  dan 
ger  of  accidental  meetings ;  but,  fortunately,  no  one  was 
met,  or  seen,  and  the  bridge  was  passed  in  safety.  Turn 
ing  short  to  the  north,  Nick  plunged  into  the  woods  again, 
following  the  cow-path  by  which  he  had  so  recently  de 
scended  to  the  glen.  No  pause  was  made  even  here.  Wil 
loughby  had  an  arm  round  the  waist  of  Maud,  and  bore  her 
forward,  with  a  rapidity  to  which  her  own  strength  was 
altogether  unequal.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  from  the  time 
the  prisoner  had  escaped,  the  fugitives  reached  the  level  of 
the  rock  of  the  water-fall,  or  that  of  the  plain  of  the  Dam. 
As  it  was  reasonably  certain  that  none  of  the  invaders  had 
passed  to  that  side  of  the  valley,  haste  was  no  longer  neces 
sary,  and  Maud  was  permitted  to  pause  for  breath. 

The  halt  was  short,  however,  our  heroine,  herself,  now 
feeling  as  if  the  major  could  not  be  secure  until  he  was 
fairly  within  the  palisades.  In  vain  did  Willoughby  try  to 
pacify  her  fears,  and  to  assure  her  of  his  comparative  safety  ; 
Maud's  nerves  were  excited,  and  then  she  had  the  dreadful 
tidings,  which  still  remained  to  be  told,  pressing  upon  her 


TUB     HUTTED     KNOLL.  157 

spirits,  and  quickening  all  her  natural  impulses  and  senti 
ments. 

Nick  soon  made  the  signal  to  proceed,  and  then  the  three 
began  to  circle  the  flats,  as  mentioned  in  the  advance  of 
.Maud  and  her  companion.  When  they  reached  a  favoura 
ble  sput,  the  Indian  onee  more  directed  a  halt,  intimating 
his  own  intention  to  move  to  the  margin  of  the  woods,  in 
order  to  reconnoitre.  Both  his  companions  heard  this  an 
nouncement  with  satisfaction,  for  Willoughby  was  ea^er  to 
say  to  .Maud  directly  that  which  he  had  so  plainly  indicated 
by  means  of  the  box,  and  to  extort  from  her  a  confession 
that  she  was  not  offended;  while;  Maud  herself  felt  the  ne 
cessity  of  letting  the  major  know  the  melancholy  circum 
stance  that  yet  remained  to  be  told.  With  these  widely 
distinct  feelings  uppermost,  our  two  lovers  saw  Nick  quit 
them,  each  impatient,  restless  and  uneasy. 

\\  liloughby  had  found  a  scat  for  Maud,  on  a  log,  and  he 
now  placed  himself  at  her  side,  and  took  her  hand,  pressing 
it  silently  to  his  heart. 

"  Nick  has  then  been  a  true  man,  dearest  Maud,"  he  said, 
"notwithstanding  all  my  doubts  ami  misgivings  of  him." 

"  Yes ;  he  gave  me  to  understand  you  would  hardly  trust 
him,  and  that  was  the  reason  I  was  induced  to  accompany 
him.  We  both  thought,  Bob,  you  would  confide  in  me/" 

"•Bless  you  —  bless  you  —  beloved  Maud  —  but  have  you 
Mike — has  he  had  any  interview  with  you — in  a  word, 
did  he  deliver  you  my  box?" 

Maud's  feelings  had  been  so  much  excited,  that  the  decla 
ration  of  Willoughby's  love,  precious  as  it  was  to  her  heart 
failed  to  produce  the  outward  si^ns  that  are  usually  exhi 
bited  by  the  delicate  and  sensitive  of  her  se\,  when  they 
listen  to  the  insinuating  lani/ua^e  for  the  first  time.  1 1<  r 
thoughts  were  engrossed  with  her  dreadful  secret,  and  with 
tin-  best  and  least  shocking  means  of  breaking  it  to  tho 
major.  The  tint  on  her  cheek,  ihereti,:  .  dtvpmed, 

as  this  question  \\as  put  to  her,  while  her  eye,  full  of  earnest 
,  .-till  remained  riveted  on  the  face  of  her  com 
panion. 

tk  I  have  seen  Mike,  dear  Bob,"  she  answered,  with  n 
steadiness  that  had  its  rise  in  her  singleness  of  purpose  — 
"  and  he  has  shown  me — given  me,  the  box." 

VOL.  II.  — 11 


158  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  But  have  you  understood  me,  Maud  ? — You  will  remem* 
ber  that  box  contained  the  great  secret  of  rny  life  !" 

**  This  I  well  remember — yes,  the  box  contains  the  great 
secret  of  your  life." 

"  But  —  you  cannot  have  understood  me,  Maud  —  else 
would  you  not  look  so  unconcerned  —  so  vacantly  —  I  am 
not  understood,  and  am  miserable !" 

"  No — no-^-no"— interrupted  Maud,  hurriedly — "  I  un 
derstand  all  you  have  wished  to  say,  and  you  have  no  cause 

to  be "  Maud's  voice  became  choked,  for  she  recollected 

the  force  of  the  blow  that  she  had  in  reserve. 

"This  is  so  strange!  —  altogether  so  unlike  your  usual 
manner,  Maud,  that  there  must  be  some  mistake.  The  box 
contained  nothing  but  your  own  hair,  dearest." 

"  Yes  ;  nothing  else.  It  was  my  hair ;  I  knew  it  the  in 
stant  I  saw  it." 

"  And  did  it  tell  you  no  secret? — Why  was  Beulah's  hair 
not  with  it?  Why  did  I  cherish  your  hair,  Maud,  and  your's 
alone?  You  have  not  understood  me  !" 

**  I  have,  dear,  dear  Bob  ! — You  love  me — you  wished  to 
say  we  are  not  brother  and  sister,  in  truth ;  that  we  have  an 
affection  that  is  far  stronger — one  that  will  bind  us  together 
for  life.  Do  not  look  so  wretched,  Bob  ;  I  understand  every 
thing  you  wish  to  say." 

"This  is  so  very  extraordinary  I  —  So  unlike  yourself, 
Maud,  I  know  not  what  to  make  of  it !  I  sent  you  that  box, 
beloved  one,  to  say  that  you  had  my  whole  heart ;  that  I 
thought  of  you  day  and  night;  that  you  were  the  great  ob 
ject  of  my  existence,  and  that,  while  misery  would  be  cer 
tain  without  you,  felicity  would  be  just  as  certain  with  you  ; 
in  a  word,  that  I  love  you,  Maud,  and  can  never  love  an 
other." 

"  Yes,  so  I  understood  you,  Bob." — Maud,  spite  of  her 
concentration  of  feeling  on  the  dreadful  secret,  could  not 
refrain  from  blushing — "  It  was  too  plain  to  be  mistaken." 

"  And  how  was  my  declaration  received  ?  Tell  me  at 
once,  dear  girl,  with  your  usual  truth  of  character,  and 
frankness — can  you,  will  you  love  me  in  return?" 

This  was  a  home  question,  and,  on  another  occasion,  it 
might  have  produced  a  scene  of  embarrassment  and  hesita 
tion.  But  Maud  was  delighted  with  the  idea  that  it  was  in 


THE     II  U  T  T  i;  I)     KNOLL.  1 59 

her  power  to  break  the  violence  of  the  blow  she  was  about 
to  indict,  by  setting  Robert  \Villouirhby 's  mind  at  ease  on 
this  great  point. 

"1  do  love  you,  Bob,"  she  said,  with  fervent  affection 
beaming  in  every  lineament  of  her  angel  face — '•'•have  loved 
you,  lor  \e;ir> — how  could  it  be  Otherwise  I  I  have  scarce 
M  rn  any  other  to  love;  and  how  see  you,  and  refrain  '.'" 

"  Blessed,  blessed,  Maud — but  this  is  so  strange — I  fear 
you  do  not  understand  me — I  am  not  speaking  of  such  atli-c- 
tion  as  Beulah  bears  me,  as  brother  and  sister  feel ;  I  speak 
of  the  love  that  my  mother  bore  my  father — of  the  love  of 
man  and  wife'' 

A  groan  from  Maud  stopped  the  vehement  young  man, 
who  received  his  companion  in  his  arms,  as  she  bowed  her 
head  on  his  bosom,  half  fainting. 

"  Is  this  resentment,  dearest,  or  is  it  consent?"  he  asked, 
bewildered  by  all  that  passed. 

"  Oh  !  Bob— Father-father— father  !" 

"  My  father  ! — what  of  him,  Maud  ?  Why  has  the  allu 
sion  to  him  brought  you  to  this  state?" 

"They  have  killed  him,  dearest,  dearest  Bob;  and  you 
must  now  be  father,  husband,  brother,  son,  all  in  one.  We 
have  no  one  left  but  you  !" 

A  long  pause  succeeded.  The  shock  was  terrible  to 
Robert  Willoughby,  but  he  bore  up  against  it,  like  a  man. 
Maud's  incoherent  and  unnatural  manner  was  now  explained, 
and  while  unutterable  tenderness  of  manner — a  tenderness 
that  was  increased  by  what  had  just  passed — was  exhibited 
by  «  ach  to  the  other,  no  more  was  said  of  love.  A  common 
urief  appeared  to  bind  their  hearts  closer  together,  but  it  was 
unnecessary  to  dwell  on  their  mutual  affection  in  words. 
Robert  Willoui>hby's  sorrow  mingled  with  that  of  Maud, 
and,  as  he  folded  her  to  his  heart,  their  faces  were  literally 
bathed  in  each  other's  tears. 

It  was  some  time  before  Willoughby  could  ask,  or  Maud 
give,  an  explanation.  Then  the  latter  briefly  recounted  all 
she  knew,  her  companion  listening  with  the  closest  attention. 
Th«-  son  thought  the  occurrence  as  extraordinary  as  it  was 
afflicting,  but  there  was  not  leisure  for  inquiry. 

It  was,  perhaps,  fortunate  for  our  lovers  that  Nick's  em- 
ploymcnt  kept  him  away.  For  nearly  ten  minutes  longer 


160  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

did  he  continue  absent ;  then  he  returned,  slowly,  thought* 
ful,  and  possibly  a  little  disturbed.  At  the  sound  of  hia 
footstep,  Willoughby  released  Maud  from  his  arms,  and  both 
assumed  an  air  of  as  much  tranquillity  as  the  state  of  their 
feelings  would  allow. 

"  Better  march" — said  Nick,  in  his  sententious  manner— 
"  Mohawk  very  mad." 

"  Do  you  see  the  signs  of  this  ?"  asked  the  major,  scarce 
knowing  what  he  said. 

"  Alway  make  Injin  mad ;  lose  scalp.  Prisoner  run 
away,  carry  scalp  with  him." 

"I  rather  think,  Nick,  you  do  my  captors  injustice;  so 
far  from  desiring  anything  so  cruel,  they  treated  me  well 
enough,  considering  the  circumstances,  and  that  we  are  in 
the  woods." 

"  Yes ;  spare  scalp,  'cause  t'ink  rope  ready.  Nebber 
trust  Mohawk — all  bad  Injin." 

To  own  the  truth,  one  of  the  great  failings  of  the  sav 
ages  of  the  American  forests,  was  to  think  of  the  neighbour 
ing  tribes,  as  the  Englishman  is  known  to  think  of  the 
Frenchman,  and  vice  versa  ;  as  the  German  thinks  of  both, 
and  all  think  of  the  Yankee.  In  a  word,  his  own  tribe  con 
tains  everything  that  is  excellent,  with  the  Pawnee,  the 
Osage  and  Pottawattomie,  as  Paris  contains  all  that  is  per 
fect  in  the  eyes  of  the  bourgeois,  London  in  those  of  the 
cockney,  and  this  virtuous  republic  in  those  of  its  own  en 
lightened  citizens ;  while  the  hostile  communities  are  re 
morselessly  given  up  to  the  tender  solicitude  of  those  beings 
which  lead  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  into  the  sinks  of 
perdition.  Thus  Nick,  liberalized  as  his  mind  had  compa 
ratively  become  by  intercourse  with  the  whites,  still  retained 
enough  of  the  impressions  of  childhood,  to  put  the  worst 
construction  on  the  acts  of  all  his  competitors,  and  the  best 
on  his  own.  In  this  spirit,  then,  he  warned  his  companions 
against  placing  any  reliance  on  the  mercy  of  the  Mohawks. 

Major  Willoughby,  however,  had  now  sufficient  induce 
ments  to  move,  without  reference  to  the  hostile  intentions  of 
his  late  captors.  That  his  escape  would  excite  a  malignant 
desire  for  vengeance,  he  could  easily  believe  ;  but  his  mother, 
his  revered  heart-broken  mother,  and  the  patient,  afflicted 
Beulah,  were  constantly  before  him,  and  gladly  did  he  press 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  lb'1 

on,  Maud  loaning  on  his  arm,  the  instant  Nick  led  the  way. 
To  say  that  the  lovely,  confiding  beinir  who  clung  to  his 
side,  as  the  vine  inclines  to  the  tn  >  .  Wftfl  :'«>r<jotten,  or  that 
he  did  not  retain  a  vivid  recollection  of  all  that  she  had  so 
ingenuously  avowrd  in  his  favour,  would  not  be  rigidly  ac 
curate,  though  the  hopes  thus  created  shone  in  the  distance, 
under  the  present  causes  of  grief,  as  the  sun's  rays  illumine 
UK- depths  of  the  heavens,  while  his  immediate  lace  is  en 
tirely  hidden  by  an  eclipse. 

•  I  )id  you  sec  any  signs  of  a  movement  against  the  house, 
Nick  /''  demanded  the  major,  when  the  three  had  bn-n 
busily  making  their  way,  for  several  minutes,  round  the 
margin  of  the  forest. 

The  Tuscarora  turned,  nodded  his  head,  and  glanced  at 
Maud. 

M  Speak  frankly,  Wyandotte— " 

"  Good  !"  interrupted  the  Indian  with  emphasis,  assuming 
a  dignity  of  manner  the  major  had  never  before  witnessed. 
"  Wyandotte  come — Nick  gone  away  altogeder.  Nebber 
see  Sassy  Nick,  ag'in,  at  Dam." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  this,  Tuscarora.  and  as  Maud  says, 
you  may  speak  plainly." 

"  T'ink,  den,  best  be  ready.  Mohawk  feel  worse  dan  if 
he  lose  ten,  free,  six  scalp.  Injin  know  Injin  feelin'.  Pale 
face  can't  stop  red-skin,  when  blood  get  up."  •• 

"Press  on,  then,  Wyandotte,  for  the  sake  of  God  —  let 
me,  at  least,  die  in  defence  of  my  beloved  mother !" 

••  Moder;  good  ! — Doctor  Tuscarora,  when  death  grin  in 
face  !  She  my  moder,  too  !" 

This  was  said  energetically,  and  in  a  manner  to  assure 
his  listeners  that  they  had  a  firm  ally  in  this  warlike  savage. 
Little  did  either  dream,  at  that  instant,  that  this  same  way 
ward  being  —  the  creature  of  passion,  and  the  fierce  aven 
ger  of  all  his  own  fancied  griefs,  was  the  cause  of  the  dread 
ful  blow  that  had  so  recently  fallen  on  them. 

The  sun  still  wanted  an  hour  of  setting,  when  Nick 
brought  his  companions  to  the  fallen  tree,  by  which  they 
were  again  to  cross  the  rivulet.  Here  lie  paused,  pointing 
to  the  rools  of  the  Hut,  which  were  then  just  visible  through 
the  trec^s ;  as  much  as  to  say  that  his  duty,  as  a  guide,  was 
done. 

14* 


162  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Thank  you,  Wyandotte,"  said  Willoughby  ;  "  if  it  be 
the  will  of  God  to  carry  us  safely  through  the  crisis,  you 
shall  be  well  rewarded  for  this  service." 

"  Wyandotte  chief — want  no  dollar.  Been  Injin  runner 
—  now  be  Injin  warrior.  Major  follow  —  squaw  follow  — 
Mohawk  in  hurry." 

This  was  enough.  Nick  passed  out  of  the  forest  on  a 
swift  walk — but  for  the  female,  it  would  have  been  his  cus 
tomary,  loping  trot — followed  by  Willoughby  ;  his  arm, 
again,  circling  the  waist  of  Maud,  whom  he  bore  along, 
scarce  permitting  her  light  form  to  touch  the  earth.  At  this 
instant,  four  or  five  conches  sounded,  in  the  direction  of  the 
mills,  and  along  the  western  margin  of  the  meadows.  Blast 
seemed  to  echo  blast ;  then  the  infernal  yell,  known  as  the 
war-whoop,  was  heard  all  along  the  opposite  face  of  the 
buildings.  Judging  from  the  sounds,  the  meadows  were 
alive  with  assailants,  pressing  on  for  the  palisades. 

At  this  appalling  moment,  Joyce  appeared  on  the  ridge 
of  the  roof,  shouting,  in  a  voice  that  might  have  been  heard 
to  the  farthest  point  in  the  valley — 

"  Stand  to  your  arms,  my  men,"  he  cried;  "here  the 
scoundrels  come;  hold  your  fire  until  they  attempt  to  cross 
the  stockade." 

To  own  the  truth,  there  was  a  little  bravado  in  this,  min 
gled  with  the  stern  courage  that  habit  and  nature  had  both 
contributed  to  lend  the  serjeant.  The  veteran  knew  the 
feebleness  of  his  garrison,  and  fancied  that  warlike  cries, 
from  himself,  might  counterbalance  the  yells  that  were  now 
rising  from  all  the  fields  in  front  of  the  house. 

As  for  Nick  and  the  major,  they  pressed  forward,  too 
earnest  ind  excited,  to  speak.  The  former  measured  the 
distance  by  his  ear ;  and  thought  there  was  still  time  to  gain 
a  cover,  if  no  moment  was  lost.  To  reach  the  foot  of  the 
cliff,  took  just  a  minute  ;  to  ascend  to  the  hole  in  the  palisade, 
half  as  much  time;  and  to  pass  it,  a  quarter.  Maud  was 
dragged  ahead,  as  much  as  she  ran  ;  and  the  period  when 
the  three  were  passing  swiftly  round  to  the  gate,  was  preg 
nant  with  imminent  risk.  They  were  seen,  and  fifty  rifles 
were  discharged,  as  it  might  be,  at  a  command.  The  bul 
lets  pattered  against  the  logs  of  the  Hut,  and  against  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  163 

palisades,  but  no  one  was  hurt.  The  voice  of  Willoughby 
o|MMif«l  the  gnti-,  and  the  next  instant  the  three  were  within 
the  shelter  of  the  court. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"  They  have  not  perish'd  —  no  ! 
Kind  words,  remembered  voices,  once  so  sweet, 
Smiles,  radiant  long  ago, 
And  features,  the  great  soul's  apparent  seat; 

"All  shall  come  back,  each  tie 
Of  pure  affection  shall  be  knit  again  ; 
Alone  shall  evil  die, 
And  sorrow  dwell  a  prisoner  in  thy  reign. 

tt  And  then  shall  I  behold 
Hun,  liy   wh<»*e  kind  paternal  side  I  sprung, 
And  her,  who  still  and  cold, 
Fills  the  next  grave  —  the  beautiful  and  young." 

BRYANT'S  PAS-I. 

THE  scene  that  followed  passed  like  a  hurricane  sweep 
ing  over  the  valley.  Joyce  had  remained  on  the  ridge  of 
the  roof,  animating  his  little  garrison,  and  endeavouring  to 
intimidate  his  enemies,  to  the  last  moment.  The  volley  of 
bullets  had  reached  the  palisades  and  the  buildings,  and  ho 
was  >till  unharmed.  But  the  sound  of  the  major's  voice 
below,  and  the  cry  that  Miss  Maud  and  Nick  were  at  the 
gate,  produced  a  sudden  change  in  all  his  dispositions  for 
the  defence.  The  scrjeant  ran  below  himself,  to  report  and 
receive  his  orders  from  the  new  commander,  while  all  the 
negroes,  females  as  well  as  males,  rushed  down  into  the 
court,  to  meet  their  young  master  and  mistress. 

It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  minute  that  succeeded,  after 
Wifloughby  and  Maud  were  surrounded  by  the  blacks. 
The  delight  of  these  untutored  brings  was  in  proportion  lo 
their  recent  sorrow.  The  death  of  their  master,  and  the  cap 
tivity  of  Ma<!«-r  Iiob  and  Mi^  Maud,  had  appeared  to  them 
like  a  general  downfall  of  the  family  of  Willoughby;  but 
here  was  a  revival  of  its  hopes,  that  came  as  unexpectedly 
as  its  previous  calamities.  Amid  the  clamour,  cries,  tears, 


L 


164  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

lamentations,  and  bursts  of  uncontrollable  delight,  Joyce 
could  scarce  find  a  moment  in  which  to  discharge  his  duty. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,  serjeant,"  exclaimed  Willoughby  ;  "  the 
assault  is  now  making,  and  you  desire  orders." 

"  There  is  not  an  instant  to  lose,  Major  Willoughby  ;  the 
enemy  are  at  the  palisades  already,  and  there  is  no  one  at 
his  station  but  Jamie  and  young  Blodget." 

"  To  your  posts,  men  —  to  your  posts,  everybody.  The 
house  shall  be  made  good  at  all  hazards.  For  God's 
sake,  Joyce,  give  me  arms.  I  feel  that  my  father's  wrongs 
are  to  be  revenged." 

"  Robert — dear,  dear  Robert,"  said  Maud,  throwing  her 
arms  on  his  shoulders,  "  this  is  no  moment  for  such  bitter 
feelings.  Defend  us,  as  I  know  you  will,  but  defend  us  like 
a  Christian." 

One  kiss  was  all  that  the  time  allowed,  and  Maud  rushed 
into  the  house  to  seek  her  mother  and  Beulah,  feeling  as 
if  the  tidings  of  Bob's  return  might  prove  some  little  alle 
viation  to  the  dreadful  blow  under  which  they  must  be  suf 
fering. 

As  for  Willoughby,  he  had  no  time  for  pious  efforts  at 
consolation.  The  Hut  was  to  be  made  good  against  a  host 
of  enemies;  and  the  cracking  of  rifles  from  the  staging  and 
the  fields,  announced  that  the  conflict  had  begun  in  earnest. 
Joyce  handed  him  a  rifle,  and  together  they  ascended 
rapidly  to  the  roofs.  Here  they  found  Jamie  Allen  and 
Blodget,  loading  and  firing  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  were 
soon  joined  by  all  the  negroes.  Seven  men  were  now  col 
lected  on  the  staging ;  and  placing  three  in  front,  and  two 
on  each  wing,  the  major's  dispositions  were  made ;  moving, 
himself,  incessantly,  to  whatever  point  circumstances  called. 
Mike,  who  knew  little  of  the  use  of  fire-arms,  was  stationed 
at  the  gete,  as  porter  and  warder. 

It  was  so  unusual  a  thing  for  savages  to  attack  by  day 
light,  unless  they  could  resort  to  surprise,  that  the  assail 
ants  were  themselves  a  little  confused.  The  assault  was 
made,  under  a  sudden  feeling  of  resentment  at  the  escape 
of  the  prisoner,  and  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the  principal 
white  men  in  the  party,  though  the  latter  were  dragged  in 
the  train  of  events,  and  had  to  seem  to  countenance  that  of 
which  they  really  disapproved.  These  sudden  out-break- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  165 

ings  were  sufficiently  common  in  Indian  warfare,  and  often 
produced  memorable  disasters.  <  hi  the  present  occasion, 
howev< T,  tin-  most  that  could  occur  was  a  repulse,  and  to 
this  tin1  leaders,  demagogues  who  owed  their  authority  to 
the  excesses  and  necessities  of  the  times,  were  lain  to  sub 
mit,  should  it  happen. 

The  onset  had  been  fierce  and  too  unguarded.  The  mo 
ment  the  volley  was  fired  at  the  major,  the  assailants  broke 
rover,  and  the  fields  were  alive  with  men.  This  was  tho 
instant  when  the  defence  was  left  to  Allen  and  Blodget,  else 
might  the  exposure  have  cost  the  enemy  dear.  As  it  was, 
the  last  brought  down  one  of  the  boldest  of  the  Indians, 
while  the  mason  fired  with  i*ood  will,  though  with  less  visi 
ble  efKx-t.  The  yell  that  followed  this  demonstration  of  the 
apparent  force  of  the  garrison,  was  a  wild  mixture  of  anger 
and  exultation,  and  the  rush  at  the  palisades  was  general 
and  swift.  As  Willoughby  posted  his  reinforcement,  the 
stockade  was  alive  with  men,  some  ascending,  some  firing 
from  its  summit,  some  aiding  others  to  climb,  and  one  fall- 
inn  within  the  enclosure,  a  second  victim  to  Blodget's  un 
erring  aim. 

The  volley  that  now  came  from  the  roofs  staggered  the 
sa\ages,  most  of  whom  fell  outward,  and  sought  cover  in 
their  usual  quick  and  dexterous  manner.  Three  or  four, 
however,  thought  it  safer  to  fall  within  the  palisades,  seek 
ing  safety  immediately  under  the  sides  of  the  buildings.  The 
view  of  these  men,  who  were  perfectly  safe  from  the  fire  of 
the  garrison  so  long  as  the  latter  made  no  sortie,  gave  an 
idea  to  those  without,  and  produced,  what  had  hitherto  been 
wanting,  something  like  order  <-«id  concert  in  the  attack. 
The  firing  now  became  desultory  and  watchful  on  both 
sides,  the  attacking  party  keeping  themselves  covered  by  the 
trees  and  fences  as  well  as  they  could,  while  the  garrison 
only  peered  above  the  ridge  of  the  roof,  as  occasions  re 
quired. 

The  instant  the  outbreak  occurred,  all  the  rl-ilcrant  de 
pendants  of  captain  Willoughby,  who  had  deserted,  aban 
doned  their  various  occupations  in  the  woods  and  fields, 
collecting  in  and  around  the  cabins,  in  the  midst  of  their 
wives  and  children.  Joel,  alone,  was  not  to  be  seen.  He 
had  sought  his  friends  among  the  leaders  of  the  party,  be- 


166  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

hind  a  slack  of  hay,  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the 
house,  and  to  which  there  was  a  safe  approach  by  means 
of  the  rivulet  and  its  fringe  of  bushes.  The  little  council 
that  was  held  at  this  spot  took  place  just  as  the  half-dozen 
assailants  who  had  fallen  within  the  palisades  were  seen 
clustering  along  under  the  walls  of  the  buildings. 

"  Natur'  gives  you  a  hint  how  to  conduct,"  observed  Joel, 
pointing  out  this  circumstance  to  his  principal  companions, 
as  they  all  lay  peering  over  the  upper  portions  of  the  stack, 
at  the  Hut.  "  You  see  them  men  under  the  eaves — they  're 
a  plaguy  sight  safer  up  there,  than  we  be  down  here ;  and, 
if  'tvvere'n't  for  the  look  of  the  thing,  I  wish  I  was  with  'em. 
That  house  will  never  be  taken  without  a  desperate  sight 
of  fightin' ;  for  the  captain  is  an  old  warrior,  and  seerns  to 
like  to  snufT  gunpowder" — the  reader  will  understand  none 
knew  of  the  veteran's  death  but  those  in  the  house — "  and 
won't  be  for  givin'  up  while  he  has  a  charge  left.  If  I  had 
twenty  men — no,  thirty  would  be  better,  where  these  fellows 
be,  I  think  the  place  could  be  carried  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  liberty  would  get  its  rights,  and  your  monarchy-men 
would  be  put  down  as  they  all  desarve." 

"  What  do  then  1"  demanded  the  leading  Mohawk,  in  his 
abrupt  guttural  English.  "  No  shoot — can't  kill  log." 

"  No,  chief,  that 's  reasonable,  an'  ongainsayable,  too ; 
but  only  one-half  the  inner  gate  is  hung,  and  I  've  contrived 
matters  so,  on  purpose,  that  the  props  of  the  half  that  is  n't 
on  the  hinges  can  be  undone,  all  the  same  as  onlatching  the 
door.  If  I  only  had  the  right  man  here,  now,  the  business 
should  be  done,  and  that  speedily." 

"  Go  'self,"  answered  the  Mohawk,  not  without  an  ex 
pression  of  distrust  and  contempt. 

"  Every  man  to  his  callin',  chief.  My  trade  is  peace,  and 
politics,  and  liberty,  while  your's  is  war.  Howsever,  I  can 
put  you,  and  them  that  likes  fightin',  on  the  trail,  and  then 
we  '11  see  how  matters  can  be  done.  Mortality  !  How  them 
desperate  devils  on  the  roof  do  keep  blazin'  away !  It 
would  n't  surprise  me  if  they  shot  somebody,  or  get  hurt 
themselvos  !" 

Such  were  the  deliberations  of  Joel  Strides  on  a  battle. 
The  Indian  leaders,  however,  gave  some  of  their  ordinary 
signals,  to  bring  their  *  young  men'  more  under  command, 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  107 

and,  sending  messengers  with  orders  in  different  directions, 
they  left  the  haystack,  compelling  Joel  to  m.vcmipany  them. 

The  results  of  th'>e  m  .vrmrnts  \\.  apparent. 

The  most  daring  of  the  Mohawks  made  their  \\.iy  into  the 
rivulet,  north  of  the  buildings,  and  were  soon  at  the  fool  of 
the  cliff.  A  little  reconnoitring  told  them  that  the  hole 
which  Joel  had  pointed  out,  had  not  been  closed  since  the 
entrance  of  Willoughby  and  his  companions.  Led  by  their 
chief,  the  warriors  stole  up  the  ascent,  and  began  to  crawl 
through  the  same  inlet  which  had  served  as  an  outlet  to  so 
many  deserters,  the  previous  night,  accompanied  by  their 
wives  and  children. 

The  Indians  in  front  had  been  ordered  to  occupy  the 
attention  of  the  garrison,  while  this  movement  was  in  the 
course  of  execution.  At  a  signal,  they  raised  a  yell,  un 
masked  them,  fired  one  volley,  and  seemed  to  make  another 
rush  at  the  works.  This  was  the  instant  chosen  for  the 
passage  of  the  hole,  and  the  seven  leading  savages  effected 
their  entrance  within  the  stockade,  with  safety.  The  eighth 
man  was  shot  by  Blodget,  in  the  hole  itself.  The  body  was 
instantly  withdrawn  by  the  legs,  and  all  in  the  rear  fell 
back  under  the  cover  of  the  cliff. 

Willoughby  now  understood  the  character  of  the  assault. 
Stationing  Joyce,  with  a  party  to  command  the  hole,  he 
went  himself  into  the  library,  accompanied  by  Jamie  and 
Blodget,  using  a  necessary  degree  of  caution.  Fortunately 
the  windows  worn  raised,  and  a  sudden  volley  routed  all  the 
Indians  who  had  taken  shelter  beneath  the  rocks.  These 
men,  however,  fled  no  further  than  the  rivulet,  where  they 
rallied  under  cover  of  the  bushes,  keeping  up  a  dropping 
fire  at  the  windows.  For  several  minutes,  the  combat  was 
confined  to  this  spot ;  Willoughby,  by  often  shifting  from 
window  to  window  along  the  rear  of  the  house,  getting  seve 
ral  volleys  that  told,  at  the  men  under  the  cover. 

As  yet,  all  the  loss  had  been  on  the  side  of  the  assailants, 
though  several  of  the  garrison,  including  both  Willoughby 
and  Joyce,  had  divers  exceedingly  narrow  escapes.  Quite 
n  dozen  of  the  assailants  had  suffered,  though  only  four 
were  killed  outright.  By  this  time,  the  assault  had  lasted 
an  hour,  and  the  shades  of  evening  were  closing  around  the 
place.  Daniel,  the  miller,  had  been  sent  by  Joel  to  spring 


1(58  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

the  mine  they  had  prepared  together,  but,  making  the  mis 
take  usual  with  the  uninitiated,  he  had  hung  back,  to  lei 
others  pass  the  hole  first,  and  was  consequently  carried 
down  in  the  crowd,  within  the  cover  of  the  bushes  of  the 
rivulet. 

Willoughby  had  a  short  consultation  with  Joyce,  and  then 
he  set  seriously  about  the  preparations  necessary  for  a  night 
defence.  By  a  little  management,  and  some  personal  risk, 
the  bullet-proof  shutters  of  the  north  wing  of  the  Hut  were 
all  closed,  rendering  the  rear  of  the  buildings  virtually  im 
pregnable.  When  this  was  done,  and  the  gates  of  the  area 
were  surely  shut,  the  place  was  like  a  ship  in  a  gale,  under 
short  canvass  and  hove-to.  The  enemy  within  the  palisades 
were  powerless,'  to  all  appearance,  the  walls  of  stone  pre 
venting  anything  like  an  application  of  fire.  Of  the  last, 
however,  there  was  a  little  danger  on  the  roof,  the  Indians 
frequently  using  arrows  for  this  purpose,  and  water  was 
placed  on  the  staging  rn  readiness  to  be  used  on  occasion. 

All  these  preparations  occupied  some  time,  and  it  was 
quite  dark  ere  they  were  completed.  Then  Willoughby  had 
a  moment  for  reflection  ;  the  firing  having  entirely  ceased, 
and  nothing  further  remaining  to  do. 

"  We  are  safe  for  the  present,  Joyce,"  the  major  observed, 
as  he  and  the  serjeant  stood  together  on  the  staging,  after 
having  consulted  on  the  present  aspect  of  things ;  "  and  I 
have  a  solemn  duty,  yet,  to  perform — my  dear  mother — 
and  the  body  of  my  father — " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  would  not  speak  of  either,  so  long  as  it  was 
your  honour's  pleasure  to  remain  silent  on  the  subject.  Ma 
dam  Willoughby  is  sorely  cut  down,  as  you  may  imagine, 
sir ;  and,  as  for  my  gallant  old  commander,  he  died  in  his 
harness,  as  a  soldier  should." 

"Where  haVe  you  taken  the  body?  —  has  my  mother 
seen  it  ?" 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir,  Madam  Willoughby  had  his  honour 
carried  into  her  own  room,  and  there  she  and  Miss  Beulah" — 
so  all  of  the  Hut  still  called  the  wife  of  Evert  Beekman — - 
"  she  and  Miss  Beulah,  kneel,  and  pray,  and  weep,  as  you 
know,  sir,  ladies  will,  whenever  anything  severe  comes  over 
their  feelings — God  bless  them  both,  we  all  say,  and  think, 
ay,  and  pray,  too,  in  our  turns,  sir." 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  169 

"  Very  well,  Joyce.  Even  a  soldier  may  drop  a  tear  over 
the  dead  body  of  his  own  father.  God  only  knows  what 
tliis  night  will  brills  forth,  and  I  may  never  have  a  moment 
as  favourable  as  this,  for  discharging  so  solemn  a  duty." 

"  Yes,  your  honour" — Joyce  fancied  that  the  major  had 
succeeded  to  this  appellation  by  the  decease  of  the  captain — 
.  your  honour,  the  commandments,  that  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Woods  used  to  read  to  us  of  a  Sunday,  tell  us  all  about 
that ;  and  it  is  quite  as  much  the  duty  of  a  Christian  to  mind 
the  commandments,  I  do  suppose,  as  it  is  for  a  soldier  to 
obey  orders.  God  bless  you,  sir,  and  carry  you  safe  through 
tii'1  all'air.  I  had  a  touch  of  it  with  Miss  Aland,  myself,  and 
know  what  it  is.  It 's  bad  enough  to  lose  an  old  commander 
in  so  sudden  a  way  like,  without  having  to  feel  what  has 
happened  in  company  with  so  sweet  ladies,  as  these  wo 
have  in  the  house.  As  for  these  blackguards  down  inside 
the  works,  let  them  give  you  no  uneasiness  ;  it  will  be  light 
work  for  us  to  keep  them  busy,  compared  to  what  your  ho 
nour  has  to  do." 

It  would  seem  by  the  saddened  manner  in  which  Wil- 
loughby  moved  away,  that  he  was  of  the  same  way  of 
thinking  as  the  serjeant,  on  this  melancholy  subject.  The 
moment,  however,  was  favourable  for  the  object,  and  delay 
could  not  be  afforded.  Then  Willoughby's  disposition  was 
to  console  his  mother,  even  while  he  wept  with  her  over  the 
dead  body  of  him  they  had  lost. 

Notwithstanding  the  wild  uproar  that  had  so  prevailed, 
not  only  without,  but  within  the  place,  the  portion  of  the 
house  that  was  occupied  by  the  widowed  matron  and  her 
daughters,  was  silent  as  the  grave.  All  the  domestics  were 
either  on  the  staging,  or  at  the  loops,  leaving  the  kitchens 
and  offices  deserted.  The  major  first  entered  a  little 
chamber,  that  opened  between  a  store-room,  and  the  aj-nr1- 
ment  usually  occupied  by  his  mother;  this  being  the  ordi 
nary  means  of  approach  to  her  room.  Here  he  paused, 
and  listened  quite  a  minute,  in  the  hope  of  catching  some 
sound  from  within  that  might  prepare  him  for  the  ncene  he 
was  to  meet.  Not  a  whisper,  a  moan,  or  a  sob  could 
be  heard;  and  he  ventured  to  lap  lightly  at  the  door. 
This  was  unheeded ;  waiting  another  minute,  as  much 
in  dread  as  in  respect,  he  raised  the  latch  with  some  such 

VOL.  II.  — 15 


170  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

awe,  as  one  would  enter  into  a  tomb  of  some  beloved  one. 
A  single  lamp  let  him  into  the  secrets  of  this  solemn  place. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  lay  stretched  on  a  large  table, 
the  manly  form  of  the  author  of  his  being.  The  face  was 
uppermost,  and  the  limbs  had  been  laid,  in  decent  order,  as 
is  usual  with  the  dead  that  have  been  cared  for.  No  change 
had  been  made  in  the  dress,  however,  the  captain  lying  in 
the  hunting-shirt  in  which  he  had  sallied  forth  ;  the  crimson 
tint  which  disfigured  one  breast,  having  been  sedulously 
concealed  by  the  attention  of  Great  Smash.  The  passage 
from  life  to  eternity  had  been  so  sudden,  as  to  leave  the 
usual  benignant  expression  on  the  countenance  of  the  corpse; 
the  paleness  which  had  succeeded  the  fresh  ruddy  tint  of 
nature,  alone  denoting  that  the  sleep  was  not  a  sweet  repose, 
but  that  of  death. 

The  body  of  his  father  was  the  first  object  that  met  the 
gaze  of  the  major.  He  advanced,  leaned  forward,  kissed 
the  marble-like  forehead,  with  reverence,  and  groaned  in 
the  effort  to  suppress  an  unmanly  outbreaking  of  sorrow. 
Then  he  turned  to  seek  the  other  well-beloved  faces.  There 
sat  Beulah,  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  as  if  to  seek  shelter  for 
her  infant,  folding  that  infant  to  her  heart,  keeping  her  look 
riveted,  in  anguish,  on  the  inanimate  form  that  she  had 
ever  loved  beyond  a  daughter's  love.  Even  the  presence 
of  her  brother  scarce  drew  a  glance  away  from  the  sad 
spectacle ;  though,  when  it  at  length  did,  the  youthful  ma 
tron  bowed  her  face  down  to  that  of  her  child,  and  wept 
convulsively.  She  was  nearest  to  the  major,  who  moved 
to  her  side,  and  kissed  the  back  of  her  neck,  with  kind 
affection.  The  meaning  was  understood ;  and  Beulah, 
while  unable  to  look  up,  extended  a  hand  to  meet  the  fra 
ternal  pressure  it  received. 

Maud  was  near,  kneeling  at  the  side  of  the  bed.  Her 
whole  attitude  denoted  the  abstraction  of  a  mind  absorbed  in 
worship  and  solicitation.  Though  Willoughby's  heart 
yearned  to  raise  her  in  his  arms ;  to  console  her,  and  bid 
her  lean  on  himself,  in  future,  for  her  earthly  support,  he 
too  much  respected  her  present  occupation,  to  break  in  upon 
it  with  any  irreverent  zeal  of  his  own.  His  eye  turned  from 
this  loved  object,  therefore,  and  hurriedly  looked  for  his 
mother. 


TUB     UUTTEl)     KNOLL.  171 

The  form  of  Mrs.  \Villoughl>y  had  escaped  the  first  glance* 
of  JUT  son,  in  consequence  of  the  position  in  which  she  had 
placed  herself.  Tin-  stricken  will:  was  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  her  person  partly  concealed  by  the  drapery  of  a 
window-curtain;  though  this  was  evidently  more  the  elll-ct 
of  accident,  than  of  design.  \\  illoughby  started,  as  he 
caught  the  tirst  glance  of  his  beloved  parent's  face;  and  he 
felt  a  chill  pass  over  his  whole  frame.  There  she  sat  up. 
right,  motionless,  tearless,  without  any  of  the  alleviating 
weaknesses  of  a  less  withering  grief,  her  mild  countenance 
exposed  to  the  light  of  the  lamp,  and  her  eyc.s  riveted  on  the 
of  the  dead.  In  this  posture  had  she  remained  for 
hours;  no  tender  cares  on  the  part  of  h'-r  daughters ;  no 
attentions  from  her  domestics ;  no  outbreaking  of  her  own 
sorrows,  producing  any  change.  Even  the  clamour  of  the 
assault  had  passed  by  her  like  the  idle  wind. 

"  My  mother — my  poor — dear — heart-broken  mother  !" 
burst  from  \Villoughl>y,  at  this  sight,  and  he  stepped  quickly 
forward,  and  knelt  at  her  feet. 

But  Bob  —  the  darling  Bob  —  his  mother's  pride  and  joy, 
was  unheeded.  The  heart,  which  had  so  long  beaten  for 
others  only ;  which  never  seemed  to  feel  a  wish,  or  a  pulsa 
tion,  but  in  the  service  of  the  objects  of  its  affection,  wai 
not  sufficiently  firm  to  withstand  the  blow  that  had  I 
on  it  so  suddenly.  Enough  of  life  remained,  however,  to 
support  the  frame  for  a  while;  and  the  will  still  exercised 
its  power  over  the  mere  animal  functions.  Her  son  shut 
out  the  view  of  the  body,  and  she  motioned  him  aside  with 
an  impatience  of  manner  he  had  never  before  witnessed  from 
;me  quarter.  Inexpressibly  shocked,  the  major  took 
her  hands,  by  gentle  compulsion,  covering  them  with  kisses, 
and  literally  bathing  them  in  tears. 

«*  Oh  !  mother — dearest,  dearest  mother  !"  he  cried,  "  icill 
you  not — do  you  not  know  me — Robert — Bob — your  much- 
indulged,  grateful,  affectionate  son.  If  father  is  gone  into 
the  immediate  presence  of  the  God  he  revered  and  served,  I 
am  still  left  to  be  a  support  to  your  declining  years. 
Lean  on  me,  mother,  next  to  your  Father  in  IIca\cn." 

"  Will  he  ever  get  up,  Robert?"  whispered  th>-  \viii 
mother.     "  You  speak  too  loud,  and  may  rouse  him  before 
his  time.     He  promised  me  to  bring  you  back ;  and  he  ever 


172  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

kept  his  promises.  He  had  a  long  march,  and  is  weary, 
See,  ho\v  sweetly  he  sleeps  !" 

Robert  Willoughby  bowed  his  head  to  his  mother's  knees, 
and  groaned  aloud.  When  he  raised  his  face  again,  he  saw 
the  arms  of  Maud  elevated  towards  heaven,  as  if  she  would 
pluck  down  that  consolation  for  her  mother,  that  her  spirit 
was  so  fervently  asking  of  the  Almighty.  Then  he  gazed 
into  the  face  of  his  mother  again  ;  hoping  to  catch  a  gleam 
of  some  expression  and  recognition,  that  denoted  more  of 
reason.  It  was  in  vain ;  the  usual  placidity,  the  usual  mild 
affection  were  there ;  but  both  were  blended  with  the  unna 
tural  halo  of  a  mind  excited  to  disease,  if  not  to  madness. 
A  slight  exclamation,  which  sounded  like  alarm,  came  from 
Beulah  ;  and  turning  towards  his  sister,  Willoughby  saw 
that  she  was  clasping  Evert  still  closer  to  her  bosom,  with 
her  eyes  now  bent  on  the  door.  Looking  in  the  direction 
of  the  latter,  he  perceived  that  Nick  had  stealthily  entered 
the  room. 

The  unexpected  appearance  of  Wyandotte  might  well 
alarm  the  youthful  mother.  He  had  applied  his  war-paint 
since  entering  the  Hut ;  and  this,  though  it  indicated  an  in 
tention  to  fight  in  defence  of  the  house,  left  a  picture  of 
startling  aspect.  There  was  nothing  hostile  intended  by 
this  visit,  however.  Nick  had  come  not  only  in  amity,  but 
in  a  kind  concern  to  see  after  the  females  of  the  family, 
who  had  ever  stood  high  in  his  friendship,  notwithstanding 
the  tremendous  blow  he  had  struck  against  their  happiness. 
But  he  had  been  accustomed  to  see  those  close  distinctions 
drawn  between  individuals  and  colours  ;  and,  the  other  pro 
prieties  admitted,  would  not  have  hesitated  about  consoling 
the  widow  with  the  offer  of  his  own  hand.  Major  Wil 
loughby,  understanding,  from  the  manner  of  the  Indian, 
the  object  of  his  visit,  suffered  him  to  pursue  his  own  course, 
in  the  hope  it  might  rouse  his  mother  to  a  better  conscious 
ness  of  objects  around  her. 

Nick  walked  calmly  up  to  the  table,  and  gazed  at  the 
face  of  his  victim  with  a  coldness  that  proved  he  felt  no 
compunction.  Still  he  hesitated  about  touching  the  body, 
actually  raising  his  hand,  as  if  with  that  intent,  and  then 
withdrawing  it,  like  one  stung  by  conscience.  Willoughby 
noted  the  act ;  and,  for  the  first  time,  a  shadowy  suspicion 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  173 

glanced  on  his  mind.     Maud  had  told  him  all  she  knew  of 
tin-    ;.  his   lather's   death,  and   old   distrusts    i 

to  revive,  though  so  iaintly  us   to  j>roduce  no  immediate 
ilia. 

:br  the  Indian,  the  hesitating  gesture  exceptcd,  the 
strictest  scrutiny,  or  the  keenest  suspicion  could  have  d 
od  no  signs  of  Hi-ling.  The  senseless  form  before  him  was 
not  less  moved  than  he  appeared  to  he,  so  far  as  the  human 
eye  could  penetrate.  Wyandottc  was  unmoved.  He  be 
lieved  that,  in  curing  the  sores  on  his  own  hack  in  this  par 
ticular  manner,  ho  had  done  what  became  a  Tu>earor;i 
warrior  and  a  chief.  Let  not  the  self-styled  Christians  of 
civilized  society  ailect  horror  at  this  instance  of  s 
justice,  so  long  as  they  go  the  whole  length  of  the  law 
of  their  several  communities,  in  avenging  their  own  fan 
cied  wrongs,  using  the  dagger  of  calumny  instead  of  the 
scalping-knife,  and  rending  and  tearing  their  victims,  by 
the  agency  of  gold  and  power,  like  so  many  beasts  of 
the  field,  in  all  the  forms  and  modes  that  legal  vindictive- 
will  cither  justify  or  tolerate;  often  exceeding  those 
broad  limits,  indeed,  and  seeking  impunity  behind  perjuries 
and  frauds. 

.Nick's  examination  of  the  body  was  neither  hurried  nor 
agitated.  When  it  was  over,  he  turned  calmly  to  consider 
the  daughters  of  the  deceased. 

"Why  you  cry — why  you  'fear'd,"  he  said,  approach 
ing  Beulah,  and  placing  his  swarthy  hand  on  the  head  of 
,-rping  infant. — "  Good  squaw — good  pappoose.    Wy- 
andotte  take  care  'em  in  woods.     Bye'm-by  go  to  pale-face 
town,  and  sleep  quiet." 

This  was  rudely  said,  but  it  was  well  meant.     Beulah  so 

\  •  (1  it  ;  and  .--he  endeavoured  to  smile  her  gratitude  in 

the  face  of  the  very  king  from  whom,  more  than  from  all 

of  earth,  she  would  have  turned  in  horror,  could  her  mental 

vision  have  reached  the  fearful  secret  that  lay  buried  in  his 

i.osom.    The  Indian  understood  her  look;  and  making 

a  gesture  of  encouragement,  he  moved  to  the  side  of  :he 

;;i  whom  his  own  hand  h.-.d  made  a  widow. 

The  appearance  of  Wyandotte  produced  no  change  in 
the  look  or  manner  of  the  matron.     The  Indian  took  her 
hand,  and  spoke. 
15* 


174  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  Squaw  berry  good,"  he  said,  with  emphasis.  "  Why 
look  so  sorry — cap'in  gone  to  happy  huntin'-ground  of  hia 
people.  All  good  dere — chief  time  come,  must  go." 

The  widow  knew  the  voice,  and  by  some  secre-t  associa 
tion  it  recalled  the  scenes  of  the  past,  producing  a  mo 
mentary  revival  of  her  faculties. 

"  Nick,  you  are  my  friend,"  she  said,  earnestly.  "  Go 
speak  to  him,  and  see  if  you  can  wake  him  up." 

The  Indian  fairly  started,  as  he  heard  this  strange  pro 
posal.  The  weakness  lasted  only  for  a  moment,  however, 
and  he  became  as  stoical,  in  appearance  at  least,  as  before. 
"  No,"  he  said  ;  "  squaw  quit  cap'in,  now.  Warrior  go 
on  last  path,  all  alone — no  want  companion. — She  look  at 
grave,  now  and  den,  and  be  happy." 

"  Happy  !"  echoed  the  widow,  "  what  is  that,  Nick  ? — 
what  is  happy,  my  son?  It  seems  a  dream — I  must  have 
known  what  it  was ;  but  I  forget  it  all  now.  Oh  !  it  was 
cruel,  cruel,  cruel,  to  stab  a  husband,  and  a  father — wasn't 
it,  Robert? — What  say  you,  Nick — shall  I  give  you  more 
medicine? — You'll  die,  Indian,  unless  you  take  it — mind 
what  a  Christian  woman  tells  you,  and  be  obedient. — Here, 
let  me  hold  the  cup — there ;  now  you  '11  live  !" 

Nick  recoiled  an  entire  step,  arid  gazed  at  the  still  beau 
tiful  victim  of  his  ruthless  revenge,  in  a  manner  no  one  had 
ever  before  noted  in  his  mien.  His  mixed  habits  left  him 
in  ignorance  of  no  shade  of  the  fearful  picture  before  his 
eyes,  and  he  began  better  to  comprehend  the  effects  of  the 
blow  he  had  so  hastily  struck — a  blow  meditated  for  years, 
though  given  at  length  under  a  sudden  and  vehement  im 
pulse.  The  widowed  mother,  however,  was  past  noting 
these  changes. 

"No  —  no  —  no  —  Nick,"  she  added,  hurriedly,  scarce 
speaking  above  a  whisper,  "  do  not  awake  him  !  God  will 
do  that,  when  he  summons  his  blessed  ones  to  the  foot 
of  his  throne.  Let  us  all  lie  down,  and  sleep  with  him. 
Robert,  do  you  lie  there,  at  his  side,  my  noble,  noble  boy; 
Beulah,  place  little  Evert  and  yourself  at  the  other  side ; 
Maud,  your  place  is  by  the  head;  I  will  sleep  at  his  feet; 
while  Nick  shall  watch,  and  let  us  know  when  it  will  be 

time  to  rise  and  pray " 

The  general  and  intense — almost  spell-bound — attention 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  175 

with  which  .ill  in  the  room  listened  to  these  gentle  but. touch- 
tr.ilerinus  of  a  mind  so  single  and  pure,  was  intcr- 
rupk'd  by  yells  so  internal,  and  shrieks  so  wild  and  fearful, 
that  it  seemed,  in  sooth,  as  if  the  last  trump  had  sounded, 
and  men  were  passing  forth  from  their  graves  to  judgment. 
Willoughby  almost  leaped  out  of  the  room,  and  Maud  fol- 
:.  to  shut  and  bolt  the  door,  when  her  waist  was  encir 
cled  by  the  arm   of  Nick,  and  she  found  herself  borne 
forward  towards  the  din. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

44  O,  Time  and  Death !  with  certain  pace, 
Though  still  unequal,  hurrying  on, 
O'erturning,  in  your  awful  race, 
The  cot,  the  palace,  and  the  throne  1" 

SANDS. 

MAUD  had  little  leisure  for  reflection.  The  yells  and 
shrieks  were  followed  by  the  cries  of  combatants,  and  iho 
crack  of  the  rifle.  Nick  hurried  her  along  at  a  rate  so  rapid 
that  she  had  not  breath  to  question  or  remonstrate,  until  she 
found  herself  at  the  door  of  a  small  store-room,  in  which 
her  mother  was  accustomed  to  keep  articles  of  domestic 
economy  that  required  but  little  space.  Into  this  room  Nick 
thrust  her,  and  then  she  heard  the  key  turn  on  her  egress. 
For  a  single  moment,  Wyandotte  stood  hesitating  whether 
he  should  endeavour  to  get  Mrs.  Willoughby  and  her  other 
daughter  into  the  same  place  of  security  ;  then,  judging  of 
the  futility  of  the  attempt,  by  the  approach  of  the  sounds 
within,  among  which  he  heard  the  full,  manly  voice  of  Ro 
bert  Willoughby,  railing  on  the  garrison  to  be  firm,  he  raised 
an  answering  yell  to  those  of  the  Mohawks,  the  war-whoop 
of  his  tribe,  and  plunged  into  the  fray  with  the  desperation 
of  one  who  ran  a  muck,  and  with  the  delight  of  a  demon. 

In  order  to  understand  the  cause  of  this  sudden  change, 
it  will  1)0  necessary  to  return  a  little,  in  the  order  of  time. 
\Vhil<-  Willousjhby  was  with  his  mother  and  sisters,  Mike 
had  charge  of  the  gate.  The  rest  of  the  garrison  was  either 


r 

176  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

at  the  loops,  or  was  stationed  on  the  roofs.  As  the  darkness 
increased,  Joel  mustered  sufficient  courage  to  crawl  through 
the  hole,  and  actually  reached  the  gate.  Without  him,  it 
was  found  impossible  to  spring  his  mine,  and  he  had  been 
prevailed  on  to  risk  this  much,  on  condition  it  should  not 
be  asked  of  him  to  do  such  violence  to  his  feelings  as  to 
enter  the  court  of  a  house  in  which  he  had  seen  so  many 
happy  days. 

The  arrangement,  by  which  this  traitor  intended  to  throw 
a  family  upon  the  tender  mercies  of  savages,  was  exceed 
ingly  simple.  It  will  be  remembered  that  only  one  leaf  of 
the  inner  gate  was  hung,  the  other  being  put  in  its  place, 
where  it  was  sustained  by  a  prop.  This  prop  consisted  of 
a  single  piece  of  timber,  of  which  one  end  rested  on  the 
ground,  and  the  other  on  the  centre  of  the  gate  ;  the  last  be 
ing  effectually  prevented  from  slipping  by  pins  of  wood, 
driven  into  the  massive  wood-work  of  the  gate,  e&ove  its 
end.  The  lower  end  of  the  prop  rested  against  a  fragment 
of  rock  that  nature  had  placed  at  this  particular  spot.  As 
the  work  had  been  set  up  in  a  hurry,  it  was  found  necessary 
to  place  wedges  between  the  lower  end  of  the  prop  and  the 
rock,  in  order  to  force  the  leaf  properly  into  its  groove,  with 
out  which  it  might  have  been  canted  to  one  side,  and  of 
course  easily  overturned  by  the  exercise  of  sufficient  force 
from  without. 

To  all  this  arrangement,  Joel  had  been  a  party,  and  he 
knew,  as  a  matter  of  course,  its  strong  and  its  weak  points. 
Seizing  a  favourable  moment,  he  had  loosened  the  wedges, 
leaving  them  in  their  places,  however,  but  using  the  precau 
tion  to  fasten  a  bit  of  small  but  strong  cord  to  the  most 
material  one  of  the  three,  which  cord  he  buried  in  the  dirt, 
and  led  half  round  a  stick  driven  into  the  earth,  quite  near 
the  wall,  and  thence  through  a  hole  made  by  one  of  the 
hinges,  to  the  outer  side  of  the  leaf.  The  whole  had  been 
done  with  so  much  care  as  to  escape  the  vigilance  of  casual 
observers,  and  expressly  that  the  overseer  might  assist  his 
friends  in  entering  the  place,  after  he  himself  had  provided 
for  his  own  safety  by  flight.  The  circumstance  that  no  one 
trod  on  the  side  of  the  gateway  where  the  unhung  leaf  stood, 
prevented  the  half-buried  cord  from  being  disturbed  by  any 
casual  footstep. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  177 

As  soon  as  Joel  reached  tin-  wall  of  the  Hut,  his  first  rare 
was  to  ascertain  if  he  were  ^a:c  from  missiles  from  the 

•d  of  this  fact,  he;  stole  round  to  the  gate,  ami  had  a 
consultation  with  the-  Mohan  k  chief,  on  the  Md.jecl  of  spring 
ing  the  mini'.  The  cord  was  found  in  its  place;  and,  haul 
ing  on  it  gently,  .''"I  was  soon  certain  that  lie  had  rn 
the  wedge,  and  that  force  'might  speedily  throw  down  the 
unhung  leaf.  Still,  he  proceeded  with  caution.  Applying 
the  point  of  a  lever  to  the  bottom  of  the  leaf,  he  hove  it  hack 
sufficiently  to  be  sure  it  would  pass  inside  of  its  li-llmv  :  ai.d 
then  he  announced  to  the  grave  warrior,  who  had  watched 
the  whole  proceeding,  that  the  time  was  come  to  lend  his 
aid. 

There  were  a  dozen  reckless  whiles,  in  the  cluster  of  sa- 
-  collected  at  the  gate  ;  and  enough  of  these  were  placed 
at  handspikes  to  effect  the  intended  dislodgement.  The 
plan  was  this :  while  poles  were  set  against  the  upper  por 
tion  of  the  leaf,  to  force  it  within  the  line  of  the  suspended 
part,  handspikes  and  crowbars,  of  which  a  sufficiency  had 
been  provided  by  Joel's  forethought,  were  to  be  applied  be 
tween  the  hinire  edge  and  the  wall,  to  cast  the  whole  over 
to  the  other  side. 

Unluckily,  Mike  had  been  left  at  the  gate  as  the  sentinel. 
A  more  unfortunate  selection  could  not  have  been  made  ; 
the  true-hearted  fellow  having  so  much  self-confidence,  and 
so  little  forethought,  as  to  believe  the  gates  impregnable. 
lie  had  lighted  a  pipe,  and  was  smoking  as  tranquilly  as  If 
had  ever  done  before,  in  his  daily  indulgences  of  this  cha 
racter,  when  the  unhung  leaf  came  tumbling  in  upon  the 
side  where  he  sat ;  nothing  saving  his  head  but  the  upper 
edge's  lodging  (mains!  the  wall.  At  the  same  momrnf,  a 
11  Indians  leaped  through  the  opening,  and  sprang  into 
the  court,  raising  the  yells  already  described.  Mike  iM- 
lowed,  armed  with  his  shillelah,  for  his  musket  was  aban 
doned  in  the  surprise,  and  he  he^an  to  lay  about  him  with  an 
Kirn<  stiK-ss  that  in  nowise  lessened  the  clamour.  This  was 
the  moment  when  Joyce,  nobly  sustained  by  Blodget  and 
Jamie  Allen,  poured  a  volley  into  the  4  nirt,  from  the  roofs; 
when  the  fray  became  general.  To  this  point  had  the  com 
bat  reached,  when  Willoughby  rushed  into  the  open  air, 
followed,  a  few  instants  later,  by  Nick. 


178  THE      HUTTED      KNOLL. 

The  scene  that  succeeded  is  not  easily  described.  It  was 
a  melee  in  the  dark,  illuminated,  at  instants,  by  the  flashes 
of  guns,  and  rendered  horrible  by  shrieks,  curses,  groans 
and  whoops.  Mike  actually  cleared  the  centre  of  the  court, 
where  he  was  soon  joined  by  Willoughby,  when,  together, 
they  made  a  rush  at  a  door,  and  actually  succeeded  in  gain 
ing  their  own  party  on  the  roof.  It  was  not  in  nature  for 
the  young  soldier  to  remain  here,  however,  while  his  mother, 
Beulah,  and,  so  far  as  he  knew,  Maud,  lay  exposed  to  the 
savages  below.  Amid  a  shower  of  bullets  he  collected  his 
whole  force,  and  was  on  the  point  of  charging  into  the  court, 
when  the  roll  of  a  drum  without,  brought  everything  to  a 
stand.  Young  Blodget,  who  had  displayed  the  ardour  of  a 
hero,  and  the  coolness  of  a  veteran  throughout  the  short 
fray,  sprang  down  the  stairs  unarmed,  at  this  sound,  passed 
through  the  astonished  crowd  in  the  court,  unnoticed,  and 
rushed  to  the  outer  gate.  He  had  barely  time  to  unbar  it, 
when  a  body  of  troops  marched  through,  led  by  a  tall,  man 
ly-looking  chief,  who  was  accompanied  by  one  that  the 
young  man  instantly  recognised,  in  spite  of  the  darkness,  for 
Mr.  \Voods,  in  his  surplice.  At  the  next  moment,  the  stran 
gers  had  entered,  with  military  steadiness,  into  the  court,  to 
the  number  of,  at  least,  fifty,  ranging  themselves  in  order 
across  its  area. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  who  are  you  ?"  called  out  Wil 
loughby,  from  a  window.  "  Speak  at  once,  or  we  fire." 

"  I  am  Colonel  Beekman,  at  the  head  of  a  regular  force," 
was  the  answer,  "  and  if,  as  I  suspect,  you  are  Major  Wil 
loughby,  you  know  you  are  safe.  In  the  name  of  Con 
gress,  I  command  all  good  citizens  to  keep  the  peace,  or 
they  will  meet  with  punishment  for  their  contumacy." 

This  announcement  ended  the  war,  Beekrnan  and  Wil« 
loughby  grasping  each  other's  hands  fervently,  at  the  next 
instant. 

"  Oh  !  Beekman !"  exclaimed  the  last,  "  at  what  a  mo 
ment  has  God  sent  you  hither!  Heaven  be  praised!  not 
withstanding  all  that  has  happened,  you  will  find  your  wife 
and  child  safe.  Place  sentinels  at  both  gates  ;  for  treachery 
has  been  at  work  here,  and  I  "shall  ask  for  rigid  justice." 

"  Softly — softly — my  good  fellow,"  answered  •  Beekman, 
pressing  his  hand.  "  Your  own  position  is  a  little  delicate, 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  179 

and  we  must  proceed  with  moderation.  I  learned,  just  in 
time,  that  a  party  was  coming  hither,  bent  on  mischief;  aiul 
obtaining  UK.-  mrrssary  authority,  I  hastened  to  the  nearest 
garrison,  obtained  a  company,  and  commenced  my  maivh 
as  soon  as  possible.  Had  we  not  met  with  Mr.  Woods, 
travelling  lor  the  settlements  in  quest  of  succour,  we  might 
have  brrn  too  late  As  it  was,  God  be  praised  ! — I  think  wo 
have  arrived  in  season." 

Such  were  the  facts.  The  Indians  had  repelled  tho 
zealous  chaplain,  as  a  madman  ;  compelling  him  to  take  the 
route  toward  the  settlements,  however ;  their  respect  for  this 
unfortunate  class  of  beings,  rendering  them  averse  to  his 
rejoining  their  enemies.  He  could,  and  did  impart  enough 
to  Beekman  to  quicken  his  march,  and  to  bring  him  and 
his  followers  up  to  the  gate  at  a  time  when  a  minute  might 
have  cost  the  entire  garrison  their  lives. 

Anxious  as  he  was  to  seek  Beulah  and  his  child,  Beek 
man  had  a  soldier's  duties  to  perform,  and  those  he  would 
not  neglect.  The  sentinels  were  posted,  and  orders  issued 
to  light  lanterns,  and  to  make  a  fire  in  the  centre  of  tho 
court,  so  that  the  actual  condition  of  the  field  of  battle  might 
be  ascertained.  A  surgeon  had  accompanied  Beekman's 
party,  and  he  was  already  at  work,  so  far  as  the  darkness 
would  allow.  Many  hands  being  employed,  and  combusti 
bles  easy  to  be  found,  ere  long  the  desired  light  was  gleam 
ing  on  the  terrible  spectacle. 

A  dozen  bodies  were  stretched  in  the  court,  of  which, 
three  or  four  were  fated  never  to  rise  again,  in  life.  Of  tho 
rest,  no  less  than  four  had  fallen  with  broken  heads,  in 
flicted  by  O'Hearn's  shillelah.  Though  these  blows  were  not 
fatal,  they  effectually  put  the  warriors  hors  dc  combat.  Of 
the  garrison,  not  one  was  among  the  slain,  in  this  part  of 
the  field.  On  a  later  investigation,  however,  it  was  ascer 
tained  that  the  poor  old  Scotch  mason  had  received  a  mortal 
hurt,  through  a  window,  and  this  by  the  very  last  shot,  that 
had  been  fired.  On  turning  over  the  dead  of  the  assailants, 
too,  it  was  discovered  that  Daniel  the  Miller  was  of  tho 
number.  A  few  of  the  Mohawks  were  seen,  with  glowing 
.  in  corners  of  the  court,  applying  their  own  rude  dress- 
ings  to  their  various  hurts ;  succeeding,  on  the  whole,  in 


180  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

effecting  the  great  purpose  of*  the  healing  art,  about  as  well 
as  those  who  were  committed  to  the  lights  of  science. 

Surprisingly  few  uninjured  members  of  the  assaulting 
party,  however,  were  to  be  found,  when  the  lanterns  ap 
peared.  Some  had  slipped  through  the  gate  before  the  sen 
tinels  were  posted  ;  others  had  found  their  way  to  the  roof, 
and  thence,  by  various  means  to  the  ground ;  while  a  few 
lay  concealed  in  the  buildings,  until  a  favourable  moment 
offered  to  escape.  Among  all  those  who  remained,  not  an 
individual  was  found  who  claimed  to  be  in  any  authority. 
In  a  word,  after  five  minutes  of  examination,  both  Beekman 
and  Willoughby  were  satisfied  that  there  no  longer  existed 
a  force  to  dispute  with  them  the  mastery  of  the  Hut. 

"  We  have  delayed  too  long  relieving  the  apprehensions 
of  those  who  are  very  dear  to  us,  Major  Willoughby,"  Beek 
man  at  length  observed.  "  If  you  will  lead  the  way  to  the 
parts  of  the  buildings  where  your — my  mother,  and  wife,  are 
to  be  found,  I  will  now  follow  you." 

"  Hold,  Beekman — there  yet  remains  a  melancholy  tale 
to  be  told  —  nay,  start  Hot — I  left  our  Beulah,  and  your  boy, 
in  perfect  health,  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  since.  But 
my  honoured,  honourable,  revered,  beloved  father  has  been 
killed  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner,  and  you  will  find  his 
widow  and  daughters  weeping  over  his  body." 

This  appalling  intelligence  produced  a  halt,  during  which 
Willoughby  explained  all  he  knew  of  the  manner  of  his 
father's  death,  which  was  merely  the  little  he  had  been  en 
abled  to  glean  from  Maud.  As  soon  as  this  duty  was  per 
formed,  the  gentlemen  proceeded  together  to  the  apartment 
of  the  mourners,  each  carrying  a  light. 

Willoughby  made  an  involuntary  exclamation,  when  he 
perceived  that  the  door  of  his  mother's  room  was  open.  He 
had  hoped  Maud  would  have  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
close  and  lock  it;  but  here  he  found  it,  yawning  as  if  to  in 
vite  the  entrance  of  enemies.  The  light  within,  too,  was 
extinguished,  though,  by  the  aid  of  the  lanterns,  he  saw  large 
traces  of  blood  in  the  ante-room,  and  the  passages  he  was 
obliged  to  thread.  All  this  hastened  his  steps.  Presently 
he  stood  in  the  chamber  of  death. 

Short  as  had  been  the  struggle,  the  thirst  for  scalps  had 
led  some  of  the  savages  to  this  sanctuary.  The  instant  the 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  181 

Indians  had  gained  the  court,  some  of  the  most  ferocious  of 
Iheir  number  had  rushed  into  the  building,  penetrating  ltd 
-  in  a  uay  to  defile  them  \\ith  slaughter.  The  first 
object  that  \Villoughby  *>aw  was  one  of  these  ruthless  war 
riors,  stretched  on  the  floor,  with  a  living  Indian,  bleeding  at 
half  a  dozen  uoumls,  standing  over  him;  the  eye-balls  of 
the  latter  were  glaring  like  the  tiger's  that  is  suddenly  con 
front*  d  to  a  foe.  An  involuntary  motion  was  made  towards 
the  rifle  he  carried,  by  the  major;  but  the  next  look  told  him 
that  the  living  Indian  was  Nick.  Then  it  was,  that  he  : 
more  steadily  about  him,  and  took  in  all  the  horrible  truths 
of  that  fatal  chamber. 

.Mrs.  \VilloLighby  was  seated  in  the  chair  where  she  had 
last  been  seen,  perfectly  dead.     No  mark  of  violence  was 
ever  found  on  her  body,  however,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
her  constant  spirit  had  followed  that  of  her  husband  to  the 
other  world,  in  submission  to  the  blow  which  had  separated 
them.     Beulah  had  been  shot ;  not,  as  was  afterwards  as 
certained,  by  any  intentional  aim,  but  by  one  of  those  ran 
dom  bullets,  of  which  so  many  had  been   living  through  the 
buildings.     The  missile  had  passed  through  her  heart,  and 
she  lay  pressing  the  little  Evert  to  her  bosom,  with  that  air 
of  steady  and  unerring  affection  which   had   mark'-d   e\rry 
act  of  her  innocent  and  feeling  life.    The  boy  himself,  thanks 
to  the  tiger-like  gallantry  of  Nick,  had  escaped  unhurt.    The 
Tuscarora  had  seen  a  party  of  six  take  the  direction  of  this 
chamber,  and  he  followed  with  an  instinct  of  their  intentions. 
When  the  leader  entered  the  room,  and  found  three  d«-ad 
bodies,  he  raised  a  yell  that  betokened   his   delight  at  the 
•  et  of  gaining  so  many  scalps;  at   the  next  instant, 
while  his  fingers  were  actually  entwined  in  the  hair  of  Onp- 
tain  Willoughby,  he  fell  by  a  blow  from  Wyandotte.      Ni.-k 
next  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  then  succeeded  a 
which  none  of  the  actors,  themselves,  could  have  described. 
Another  .Mohawk    fell,  and  the  remainder,  after  sulierinii 
horribly  from  the  keen  knife  of  Niek,  as  well  as  fmm  hlo-.vs 
received  from  each  other,  dragged  then.  .nv,  !ea\inj 

th«-  field  to  the  Tuscarora.  The  lat:«-r  met  the  almost  be 
wildered  gaze  of  the  major  with  a  smile  of  grim  triumph, 
as  he  pointed  to  the  three  bodies  of  the  beloved  ones,  and 
said — 

VOL.  II.  — 16 


182  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

"  See  —  all  got  scalp  !  Deaf,  nothin'  —  scalp,  ebbery 
t'ing." 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  outbreaking  of  an 
guish  from  the  husband  and  brother.  It  was  a  moment  of 
wild  grief,  that  bore  down  all  the  usual  restraints  of  man 
hood,  though  it  was  such  a  moment  as  an  American  frontier 
residence  has  often  witnessed.  The  quiet  but  deep-feeling 
nature  of  Beekman  received  a  shock  that  almost  produced 
a  dissolution  of  his  earthly  being.  He  succeeded,  however, 
in  raising  the  still  warm  body  of  Beulah  from  the  floor,  and 
folding  it  to  his  heart.  Happily  for  his  reason,  a  flood  of 
tears,  such  as  women  shed,. burst  from  his  soul,  rather  than 
from  his  eyes,  bedewing  her  still  sweet  and  placid  counte 
nance. 

To  say  that  Robert  Willoughby  did  not  feel  the  desola 
tion,  which  so  suddenly  alighted  on  a  family  that  had 
often  been  quoted  for  its  mutual  affection  and  happiness, 
would  be  to  do  him  great  injustice.  Fie  even  staggered  un 
der  the  blow;  yet  his  heart  craved  further  information. 
The  Indian  was  gazing  intently  on  the  sight  of  Beekman's 
grief,  partly  in  wonder,  but  more  in  sympathy,  when  he  felt 
an  iron  pressure  of  his  arm. 

"  Maud — Tuscarora" —  the '  major  rather  groaned  than 
whispered  in  his  ear,  "  know  you  anything  of  Maud  ?" 

Nick  made  a  gesture  of  assent ;  then  motioned  for  the 
other  to  follow.  He  led  the  way  to  the  store-room,  produced 
the  key,  and  throwing  open  the  door,  Maud  was  weeping  on 
Robert  Willoughby's  bosom  in  another  instant.  He  would 
not  take  her  to  the  chamber  of  death,  but  urged  her,  by 
gentle  violence,  to  follow  him  to  the  library. 

"  God  be  praised  for  this  mercy  !"  exclaimed  the  ardent 
girl,  raising  her  hands  and  streaming  eyes  to  heaven.  "  I 
know  not,  care  not,  who  is  conqueror,  since  you  are  safe !" 

"  Oh  !  Maud — beloved  one — we  must  now  be  all  in  all  to 
each  other.  Death  has  stricken  the  others." 

This  was  a  sudden  and  involuntary  announcement,  though 
it  was  best  it  should  be  so  under  the  circumstances.  It  was 
long  before  Maud  could  hear  an  outline,  even,  of  the  details, 
but  she  bore  them  better  than  Willoughby  could  have  hoped. 
The  excitement  had  been  so  high,  as  to  brace  the  mind  to 
meet  any  human  evil.  The  sorrow  that  came  afterwards, 


THE      HUTTED      KNOLL.  183 

though  sweetened  by  so  many  tender  recollections,  and  chas 
tened  hopes,  was  deep  and  enduring. 

Our  picture  would  not  have  been  complete,  without  relat 
ing  the  eara>tru|>he  that  befell  the  I  lulled  Knoll;  hut,  having 
irgcd  this  painful  duty,  we  prei'er  t->  draw  a  veil  over 
Daimler  of  that  dreadful  night.     The  cries  of  the  no- 
s/when  they  learned  the  death  of  their  old  and  young 
mistress,  disturbed  the  silence  of  the  place  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  a  profound  stillness  settled  on  the  buildings,  mark 
ing  them  distinctly  as  the  house  of  mourning.     On  further 
inquiry,  too,  it  was  ascertained  that  Great  Smash,  after 
shooting  an  Oneida,  had  been  slain  and  scalped.     Pliny  the 
younger,  also,  fell  fighting  like  a  wild  beast  to  defend  the 
entrance  to  his  mistresses'  apartments. 

The  following  day,  when  light  had  returned,  a  more  ac 
curate  idea  was  obtained  of  the  real  state  of  the  valley. 
All  of  the  invading  party,  the  dead  and  wounded  excepted, 
had  made  a  rapid  retreat,  accompanied  by  most  of  the  de 
serters  and  their  families.  The  name,  known  influence, 
and  actual  authority  of  Colonel  Beek man  had  wrought  this 
change;  the  irregular  powers  that  had  set  the  expedition  in 
motion,  preferring  to  conceal  their  agency  in  the  transac 
tion,  rather  than  make  any  hazardous  attempt  to  claim  tho 
reward  of  patriotic  service,  as  is  so  often  done  in  revolu 
tions,  for  merciless  deeds  and  selfish  acts.  There  had  been 
no  real  design  on  the  part  of  the  whites  to  injure  any  of  the 
family  in  their  persons;  but,  instigated  by  Joel,  they  had 
fancied  the  occasion  favourable  for  illustrating  their  own 
public  virtue,  while  they  placed  themselves  in  the  way  of 
receiving  fortune's  favours.  The  assault  that  actually  oc 
curred,  was  one  of  those  uncontrollable  outbreakings  of 
Indian  ferocity,  that  have  so  often  set  at  defiance  the  re 
straints  of  discipline. 

Nick  was  not  to  be  found  either.  He  had  been  last  seen 
dressing  his  wounds,  with  Indian  patience,  and  Indian  skill, 
preparing  to  apply  herbs  and  roots,  in  quest  of  which  ho 
went  into  the  forest  about  midnight.  As  he  did  not  return, 
\Vil!oi'!_'h!.y  f'-ared  that  he  might  be  suffering  alone,  and 
determined  to  have  a  search  made,  as  soon  as  he  had  per 
formed  the  last  sad  offices  for  the  dead. 

Two  days  occurred,  however,  before  this  melancholy  duty 


184  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

was  discharged.  The  bodies  of  all  the  savages  who  had 
fallen  were  interred  the  morning  after  the  assault ;  but  that 
of  Jamie  Allen,  with  those  of  the  principal  persons  of  the 
family,  were  kept  for  the  pious  purposes  of  affection,  until 
the  time  mentioned. 

The  funeral  was  a  touching  sight.  The  captain,  his  wife, 
and  daughter,  were  laid,  side  by  side,  near  the  chapel ;  the 
first  and  last  of  their  race  that  ever  reposed  in  the  wilds  of 
America.  Mr.  Woods  read  the  funeral  service,  summoning 
all  his  spiritual  powers  to  sustain  him,  as  he  discharged  this 
solemn  office  of  the  church.  Willoughby's  arm  was  around 
the  waist  of  Maud,  who  endeavoured  to  reward  his  tender 
assiduities  by  a  smile,  but  could  not.  Colonel  Beekman 
held  little  Evert  in  his  arms,  and  stood  over  the  grave  with 
the  countenance  of  a  resolute  man  stricken  with  grief — one 
of  the  most  touching  spectacles  of  our  nature. 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  saith  the  Lord" 
sounded  in  the  stillness  of  that  valley  like  a  voice  from 
heaven,  pouring  out  consolation  on  the  bruised  spirits  of 
the  mourners.  Maud  raised  her  face  from  Willoughby's 
shoulder,  and  lifted  her  blue  eyes  to  the  cloudless  vault 
above  her,  soliciting  mercy,  and  offering  resignation  in  the 
look.  The  line  of  troops  in  the  back-ground  moved,  as  by 
a  common  impulse,  and  then  a  breathless  silence  showed 
the  desire  of  these  rude  beings  not  to  lose  a  syllable. 

A  round  red  spot  formed  on  each  of  the  cheeks  of  Mr. 
Woods  as  he  proceeded,  and  his  voice  gathered  strength, 
until  its  lowest  intonations  came  clear  and  distinct  on  every 
ear.  Just  as  the  bodies  were  about  to  be  lowered  into  their 
two  receptacles,  the  captain,  his  wife  and  daughter  being 
laid  in  the  same  grave,  Nick  came  with  his  noiseless  step 
near  the  little  group  of  mourners.  He  had  issued  from  tho 
forest  only  a  few  minutes  before,  and  understanding  the 
intention  of  the  ceremony,  he  approached  the  spot  as  fast 
as  weakness  and  wounds  would  allow.  Even  he  listened 
with  profound  attention  to  the  chaplain,  never  changing  his 
eye  from  his  face,  unless  to  glance  at  the  coffins  as  they  lay 
in  their  final  resting-place. 

"  /  heard  a  voice  from  Heaven,  saying  unto  me,  write, 
From  henceforth  blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord ; 
even  so  saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labours ," 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  185 

continued  the  chaplain,  his  voice  beginning  to  betray  a 
tremor;  then  the  i:;i/«-  «.f  the  Tu-earora  Lvalue  keen  as  the 
panther's  glance  at  his  discovered  victim.  Tears  followed, 
and,  lor  a  moment,  the  voice  was  choked. 

"  Why  you  woman  I"  demanded  Nick,  fiercely.  "  Savo 
all  'c  sculp!" 

This  strange  interruption  failed  to  produce  any  effect. 
First  Beeknaan  yielded  ;  Maud  and  \\  illoughby  followed  ; 
until  Mr.  Woods,  himself,  unable  to  resist  the  double  as 
saults  of  the  power  of  sympathy  and  his  own  affection, 
closed  the  book  and  wept  like  a  child. 

It  required  minutes  for  the  mourners  to  recover  their  self- 
command.  Wlx-n  the  latter  returned,  however,  all  knelt  on 
the  grass,  the  line  of  soldiers  included,  and  the  closing 
prayers  were  raised  to  the  throne  of  God. 

Tliis  act  of  devotion  enabled  the  mourners  to  maintain  an 
appearance  of  greater  tranquillity  until  the  graves  were  filled. 
The  troops  advanced,  and  fired  three  volleys  over  the  cap 
tain's  grave,  when  all  retired  towards  the  Hut.  Maud  had 
caught  little  Kvert  from  the  arms  of  his  father,  and,  pressing 
him  to  her  bosom,  the  motherless  babe  seemed  disposed  to 
slumber  there.  In  this  manner  she  walked  away,  attended 
closely  by  the  father,  who  now  cherished  his  boy  as  an  only 
ire. 

W illoughby  lingered  the  last  at  the  grave,  Nick  alone 
remaining  near  him.  The  Indian  had  been  struck  by  the 
exhibition  of  deep  sorrow  that  he  had  witnessed,  and  he  felt 
an  uneasiness  that  was  a  little  unaccountable  to  himself.  It 
was  one  of  the  caprices  of  this  strange  nature  of  ours,  that 
he  should  feel  a  desire  to  console  those  whom  he  had  so 
deeply  injured  himself.  He  drew  near  to  Robert  Willough- 
bv,  therefore,  and,  laying  a  hand  on  the  lattcr's  arm,  drew 
his  look  in  the  direction  of  his  own  red  and  speaking  face. 

"  Why  so  sorry,  major  ?"  he  said.  "  Warrior  nebber  die 
but  once — must  die  sometime." 

**  There  lie  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my  only  sister, 
Indian — is  not  that  enough  to  make  the  stoutest  heart  bend  ? 
You  know  them,  too,  \ick- did  you  ever  know  better?" 

<•  Squaw  good — both  squaw  good  — Nick  sec  no  pale-face 
squaw  he  like  so  much/' 

"  I  thank  you,  Nick !     This  rude  tribute  to  the  virtues  of 
16* 


186  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

my  mother  and  sister,  is  far  more  grateful  to  me  than  the 
calculating  and  regulated  condolence  of  the  world." 

"  No  squaw  so  good  as  ole  one — she,  all  heart — love  every 
body,  but  self." 

This  was  so  characteristic  of  his  mother,  that  Willoughby 
was  startled  by  the  sagacity  of  the  savage,  though  reflection 
told  him  so  long  an  acquaintance  with  the  family  must  have 
made  a  dog  familiar  with  this  beautiful  trait  in  his  mother. 

"  And  my  father,  Nick  !"  exclaimed  the  major,  with  feel 
ing — "  my  noble,  just,  liberal,  gallant  father  ! — He,  too,  you 
knew  well,  and  must  have  loved." 

"  No  so  good  as  squaw,"  answered  the  Tuscarora,  sen- 
tentiously,  and  not  altogether  without  disgust  in  his  manner. 

"  We  are  seldom  as  good  as  our  wives,  and  mothers,  and 
sisters,  Nick,  else  should  we  be  angels  on  earth.  But,  al 
lowing  for  the  infirmities  of  us  men,  my  father  was  just  and 
good." 

"Too  much  flog" — answered  the  savage,  sternly—"  make 
Injin's  back  sore." 

This  extraordinary  speech  struck  the  major  less,  at  the 
time,  than  it  did,  years  afterwards,  when  he  came  to  reflect 
on  all  the  events  and  dialogues  of  this  teeming  week.  Such 
was  also  the  case  as  to  what  followed. 

"  You  are  no  flatterer,  Tuscarora,  as  I  have  always  found 
in  our  intercourse.  If  my  father  ever  punished  you  with 
severity,  you  will  allow  me,  at  least,  to  imagine  it  was  me 
rited." 

"  Too  much  flog,  I  say,"  interrupted  the  savage,  fiercely. 
"No  difference,  chief  or  not.  Touch  ole  sore  too  rough. 
Good,  some;  bad,  some.  Like  weather— now  shine;  now 
storm." 

"  This  is  no  time  to  discuss  these  points,  Nick.  You 
have  fought  nobly  for  us,  and  I  thank  you.  Without  your 
aid,  these  beloved  ones  would  have  been  mutilated,  as  well 
as  slain;  and  Maud— my  own  blessed  Maud — might  now 
have  been  sleeping  at  their  sides." 

Nick's  face  was  now  all  softness  again,  and  he  returned 
the  pressure  of  Willoughby's  hand  with  honest  fervour. 
Here  they  separated.  The  major  hastened  to  the  side  of 
Maud,  to  fold  her  to  his  heart,  and  console  her  with  his  love. 
Nick  passed  into  the  forest,  returning  no  more  to  the  Hut. 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  187 

•\-ith-  led  him  near  the  irrave.  On  the  sido  where  lay 
the  body  of  Mrs.  Willoughby,  IK-  threw  a  flower  lie  had 
plucked  in  the  meadow;  \\lnlc  he  shook  his  IIIIL-  r  inena- 
riniily  at  the  other,  whieh  liid  the  person  of  his  em-my.  In 
this,  he  was  true  to  his  nature,  \\hieh  taught  him  never  to 
forget  u  favour,  or  ibrgive  an  injury. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

"  I  shall  go  on  through  all  eternity, 
Thank  God,  I  only  am  an  embryo  still : 
The  small  beginning  Of  a  glorious  soul, 
An  atom  that  shall  fill  immensity." 

COXE. 

A  FORTNIGHT  elapsed  ere  Willoughby  and  his  party  could 
tear  themselves  from  a  scene  that  had  witnessed  so  much 
domestic  happiness;  but  on  which  had  fallen  the  blight  of 
death.  During  that  time,  the  future  arrangements  of  the 
survivors  were  completed.  Beekman  was  made  acquainted 
with  the  state  of  feeling  that  existed  between  his  brother-in- 
law  and  Maud,  and  he  advised  an  immediate  union. 

"  Be  happy  while  you  can,"  he  said,  with  bitter  emphasis. 
"  We  live  in  troubled  times,  and  heaven  knows  when  wo 
shall  sec  better.  Maud  has  not  a  blood- relation  in  all  A  Ul 
rica,  unless  there  may  happen  to  be  some  in  the  British 
army.  Though  we  should  all  be  happy  to  protect  and 
cherish  the  dear  girl,  she  herself  would  probably  prefer  to 
be  near  those  whom  nature  has  appointed  her  friends.  To 
me,  she?  will  always  seem  a  sister,  as  you  must  ever 
brother.  By  uniting  yourselves  at  once,  all  appearances 
of  impropriety  will  be  avoided;  and  in  time,  God  a\ 
evil,  you  can  introduce  your  wife  to  her  English  con° 
nections." 

"  You  forget,  Beekman,  that  you  are  giving  this  advice 
to  one  who  is  a  prisoner  on  parole,  and  one  who  may  pos 
sibly  be  treated  as  a  spy." 

"No  —  that  is  impossible.  Schuyler,  our  noble  com 
mander,  is  both  just  and  a  gentleman.  He  will  tolerate 


188  THE      HUTTED     KNOLL. 

nothing  of  the  sort.  Your  exchange  can  easily  be  effected, 
and,  beyond  your  present  difficulties,  I  can  pledge  myself 
to  be  able  to  protect  you." 

Willoughby  was  not  averse  to  following  this  advice ;  and 
he  urged  it  upon  Maud,  as  the  safest  and  most  prudent 
course  they  could  pursue.  Our  heroine,  however,  was  so 
reluctant  even  to  assuming  the  appearance  of  happiness,  so 
recently  after  the  losses  she  had  experienced,  that  the'lover's 
task  of  persuasion  was  by  no  means  easy.  Maud  was  to 
tally  free  from  affectation,  while  she  possessed  the  keenest 
sense  of  womanly  propriety.  Her  intercourse  with  Robert 
Willoughby  had  been  of  the  tenderest  and  most  confidential 
nature,  above  every  pretence  of  concealment,  and  was  ren 
dered  sacred  by  the  scenes  through  which  they  had  passed. 
Her  love,  her  passionate,  engrossing  attachment,  she  did 
not  scruple  to  avow ;  but  she  could  not  become  a  bride 
while  the  stains  of  blood  seemed  so  recent  on  the  very 
hearth  around  which  they  were  sitting.  She  still  saw  the 
forms  of  the  dead,  in  their  customary  places,  heard  their 
laughs,  the  tones  of  their  affectionate  voices,  the  maternal 
whisper,  the  playful,  paternal  reproof,  or  Beulah's  gentle  call. 

"  Yet,  Robert,"  said  Maud,  for  she  could  now  call  him  by 
that  name,  and  drop  the  desperate  familiarity  of  l  Bob,' — • 
"  yet,  Robert,  there  would  be  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in 
making  our  vows  at  the  altar  of  the  little  chapel,  where  we 
have  so  often  worshipped  together  —  the  loved  ones  who 
are  gone  and  we  who  alone  remain." 

"  True,  dearest  Maud  ;  and  there  is  another  reason  why 
we  should  quit  this  place  only  as  man  and  wife.  Beek- 
man  has  owned  that  a  question  will  probably  be  raised 
among  the  authorities  at  Albany  concerning  the  nature  of 
my  visit  here.  It  might  relieve  him  from  an  appeal  to  more 
influence  than  would  be  altogether  pleasant,  did  I  appear  as 
a  bridegroom  rather  than  as  a  spy." 

The  word  "  spy"  settled  the  matter.  All  ordinary  con- 
siderations  were  lost  sight  of,  under  the  apprehensions  it 
created,  and  Maud  frankly  consented  to  become  a  wife  thai 
very  day.  The  ceremony  was  performed  by  Mr.  Woods 
accordingly,  and  the  little  chapel  witnessed  tears  of  bitter 
recollections  mingling  with  the  smiles  with  which  the  bride 
received  the  warm  embrace  of  her  husband,  after  the  bene- 


THE      HUTTED     KNOLL.  189 

diction  was  pronounced.  Still,  all  felt  that,  under  the  cir- 
cumvtances,  (It-lay  would  have  been  unwise.  .Maud  >:i\v  a 
species  of  holy  solemnity  in  a  ceremony  so  closely  con 
nected  with  scenes  so  sad. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  marriage,  all  that  remained  of 
those  who  had  so  lately  crowded  the  Hut,  left  the  valley 
;;<T.  The  valuables  were  packed  and  transported  to 
boats  lying  in  the  stream  below  the  mills.  All  the  cattle, 
hogs,  Ace.;  were  collected  and  driven  towards  the  settle- 
ments;  and  horses  wen-  prepared  for  Maud  and  the  females, 
who  were  to  thread  the  path  that  led  to  Fort  Stanwix.  In  a 
word,  the  K mill  was  to  be  abandoned,  as  a  spot  unfit  to  be 
occupied  in  such  a  war.  None  but  labourers,  indeed,  could, 
or  would  remain,  and  Bcekmnn  thought  it  wisest  to  leave 
the  spot  entirely  to  nature,  for  the  fe\v  succeeding  years. 

There  had  been  some  rumours  of  confiscations  by  the 
new  state,  and  Willoughby  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  would  be  safer  to  transfer  this  property  to  one  who  would 
be  certain  to  escape  such  an  infliction,  than  to  retain  it  in 
his  own  hands.  Little  Evert  was  entitled  to  receive  a  por 
tion  of  the  captain's  estate  by  justice,  if  not  by  law.  No 
will  had  been  found,  and  the  son  succeeded  as  heir-at-law. 
A  deed  was  accordingly  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Woods,  who  un 
derstood  such  matters,  and  being  duly  executed,  the  Heaver 
Dam  property  v\as  vested  in  fee.  in  the  child.  His  own 
thirty  thousand  pounds,  the  personals  he  inherited  from  his 
mother,  and  Maud's  fortune,  to  say  nothing  of  the  major's 
commission,  formed  an  ample  support  for  the  new-married 
pair.  When  all  was  settled,  and  made  productive,  indeed, 
Willoughby  found  himself  the  master  of  between  three  and 
four  thousand  sterling  a  year,  exclusively  of  his  allowances 
from  the  British  government,  an  ample  fortune  for  that  day. 
In  looking  over  the  accounts  of  Maud's  fortune,  lie  had  rea 
son  to  admire  the  rigid  justice,  and  free-handed  liberality 
with  which  his  father  had  managed  her  affairs.  Kvry 
farthing  of  her  income  had  been  transferred  to  capital,  a 
long  minority  nearly  doubling  the  original  investment.  Un 
known  to  himself,  he  had  married  one  of  the  largest  heir 
esses  then  to  be  found  in  the  American  colonies.  This  was 
unknown  to  Maud,  also ;  though  it  gave  her  great  delight 


190  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

on  her  husband's  account,  when  she  came  to  learn  the 
truth. 

Albany  was  reached  in  due  time,  though  not  without  en 
countering  the  usual  difficulties.  Here  the  party  separated. 
The  remaining  Plinys  and  Smashes  were  all  liberated,  hand 
some  provisions  made  for  their  little  wants,  and  good  places 
found  for  them,  in  the  connection  of  the  family  to  which 
they  had  originally  belonged.  Mike  announced  his  deter 
mination  to  enter  a  corps  that  was  intended  expressly  to 
fight  the  Indians.  He  had  a  long  score  to  settle,  and  hav 
ing  no  wife  or  children,  he  thought  he  might  amuse  himself 
in  this  way,  during  a  revolution,  as  well  as  in  any  other. 

"  If  yer  honour  was  going  anywhere  near  the  county 
Leitrim,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  Willoughby's  offer  to  keep 
him  near  himself,  "  I  might  travel  in  company  ;  seein'  that 
a  man  likes  to  look  on  ould  faces,  now  and  then.  Many- 
thanks  for  this  bag  of  gold,  which  will  sarve  to  buy  scalps 
wid' ;  for  divil  bur-r-n  me,  if  I  don't  carry  on  that  trade,  for 
some  time  to  come.  T'ree  cuts  wid  a  knife,  half  a  dozen 
pokes  in  the  side,  and  a  bullet  scraping  the  head,  makes  a 
man  mindful  of  what  has  happened ;  to  say  nothing  of  the 
captain,  and  Madam  Willoughby,  and  Miss  Beuly — God  for 
ever  bless  and  presarve  'em  all  t'ree — and,  if  there  was  such 
a  thing  as  a  bit  of  a  church  in  this  counthry,  wouldn't  I 
use  this  gould  for  masses  ? — dat  I  would,  and  let  the  scalps 
go  to  the  divil !" 

This  was  an  epitome  of  the  views  of  Michael  O'Hearn. 
No  arguments  of  Willoughby's  could  change  his  resolu 
tion  ;  but  he  set  forth,  determined  to  illustrate  his  career  by 
procuring  as  many  Indian  scalps,  as  an  atonement  for  the 
wrongs  done  "  Madam  "Willoughby  and  Miss  Beuly,"  as 
came  within  his  reach. 

"And  you,  Joyce,"  said  the  major,  in  an  interview  he 
had  with  the  serjeant,  shortly  after  reaching  Albany ;  "  I 
trust  we  are  not  to  part.  Thanks  to  Colonel  Beekman's 
influence  and  zeal,  I  am  already  exchanged,  and  shall  repair 
to  New  York  next  week.  You  are  a  soldier ;  and  these  are 
times  in  which  a  good  soldier  is  of  some  account.  I  think  I 
can  safely  promise  you  a  commission  in  one  of  the  new 
provincial  regiments,  about  to  be  raised." 

"  I  thank  your  honour,  but  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  accept 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  191 

the  offer.  I  took  service  with  Captain  Willoughby  for  life; 
had  he  lived,  I  would  have  followed  wherever  lie  led.  Uut 
that  enlistment  has  expired;  and  1  am  now  like  a  recruit 
before  he  takes  the  bounty.  In  such  cases,  a  man  has  always 
a  right  to  pick  his  corps.  Politics  I  do  not  much  under 
stand  ;  but  when  the  question  comes  up  of  pulling  ah 
for  or  against  his  country,  an  unengaged  man  has  a  right 
to  choose.  Between  the  two,  meaning  no  reproach  to  your 
self,  Major  Willoughby,  who  had  regularly  taken  service 
with  the  other  side,  before  the  war  began — but,  between  the 
two,  I  would  rather  fight  an  Englishman,  than  an  Ameri 
can." 

"  You  may  possibly  be  right,  Joyce ;  though,  as  you  say, 
my  service  is  taken.  I  hope  you  follow  the  dictates  of  con 
science,  as  I  am  certain  I  do  myself.  We  shall  never  meet 
in  arms,  however,  if  I  can  prevent  it.  There  is  a  negotia 
tion  for  a  lieutenant-colonelcy  going  on,  which,  if  it  suc 
ceed,  will  carry  me  to  England.  I  shall  never  serve  an 
hour  longer  against  these  colonies,  if  it  be  in  my  power  to 
avoid  it." 

"  States,  with  your  permission,  Major  Willoughby," 
answered  the  serjeant,  a  little  stiffly.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear 
it,  sir;  for,  though  I  wish  my  enemies  good  soldiers,  I 
would  rather  not  have  the  son  of  my  old  captain  among 
them.  Colonel  Beekman  has  offered  to  make  me  serjeant- 
major  of  his  own  regiment ;  and  we  both  of  us  join  next 
week." 

Joyce  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  became  serjeant- 
major,  and,  in  the  end,  lieutenant  and  adjutant  of  the  regi 
ment  he  had  mentioned.  He  fought  in  most  of  the  princi 
pal  battles  of  the  war,  and  retired  at  the  peace,  with  an 
excellent  character.  Ten  yrnrs  later,  he  fell,  in  one  of  the 
murderous  Indian  affairs,  that  occurred  during  the  first 
presidential  term,  a  grey-headed  captain  of  foot.  The  man 
ner  of  his  death  was  not  to  be  regretted,  perhaps,  as  it  was 
what  he  had  always  wished  might  happen  ;  but,  it  was  a 
singular  fact,  that  Mike  stood  over  his  body,  and  protected 
it  from  mutilation;  the  County  Lcitrim-man  having  turned 
soldier  by  trade,  re-enlisting  n-iiularly,  us  soon  as  at  liberty, 
and  laying  up  scalps  on  all  suitable  occasions. 

Blodget,  too,  had  followed  Joyce  to  the  wars.     The  reudi- 


192  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

ness  and  intelligence  of  this  young  man,  united  to  a  courage 
of  proof,  soon  brought  him  forward,  and  he  actually  came 
out  of  the  revolution  a  captain.  His  mind,  manners  and 
information  advancing  with  himself,  he  ended  his  career,  not 
many  years  since,  a  prominent  politician  in  one  of  the  new 
states  ;  a  general  in  the  militia — no  great  preferment,  by  the 
way,  for  one  who  had  been  a  corporal  at  the  Hut  —  and  a 
legislator.  Worse  men  have  often  acted  in  all  these  capaci 
ties  among  us  ;  and  it  was  said,  with  truth,  at  the  funeral  of 
General  Blodget,  an  accident  that  does  not  always  occur  on 
such  occasions,  that  "  another  revolutionary  hero  is  gone." 
Beekman  was  never  seen  to  smile,  from  the  moment  he  first 
beheld  the  dead  body  of  Beulah,  lying  with  little  Evert  in 
her  arms.  He  served  faithfully  until  near  the  close  of  the 
war,  falling  in  battle  only  a  few  months  previously  to  the 
peace.  His  boy  preceded  him  to  the  grave,  leaving,  as  con 
fiscations  had  gone  out  of  fashion  by  that  time,  his  uncle 
heir-at-law,  again,  to  the  same  property  that  he  had  con 
ferred  on  himself. 

As  for  Willoughby  and  Maud,  they  were  safely  conveyed 
to  New  York,  where  the  former  rejoined  his  regiment.  Our 
heroine  here  met  her  great-uncle,  General  Meredith,  the  first 
of  her  own  blood  relations  whom  she  had  seen  since  infancy. 
Her  reception  was  grateful  to  her  feelings ;  and,  there  being 
a  resemblance  in  years,  appearance  and  manners,  she  trans 
ferred  much  of  that  affection  which  she  had  thought  interred 
for  ever  in  the  grave  of  her  reputed  father,  to  this  revered 
relative.  He  became  much  attached  to  his  lovely  niece, 
himself;  and,  ten  years  later,  Willoughby  found  his  income 
quite  doubled,  by  his  decease. 

At  the  expiration  of  six  months,  the  gazette  that  arrived 
from  England,  announced  the  promotion  of  "  Sir  Robert 
Willoughby,  Bart.,  late  major  in  the  — th,  to  be  lieutenant- 
colonel,  by  purchase,  in  His  Majesty's  — th  regiment  of 
foot."  This  enabled  Willoughby  to  quit  America  ;  to  which 
quarter  of  the  world  he  had  no  occasion  to  be  sent  during 
the  remainder  of  the  war. 

Of  that  war,  itself,  there  is  little  occasion  to  speak.  Its 
progress  and  termination  have  long  been  matters  of  history. 
The  independence  of  America  was  acknowledged  by  Eng 
land  in  1783 ;  and,  immediately  after,  the  republicans  com- 


TfcE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  193 

mcnccd  the  conquest  of  their  wide-spread  domains,  by  means 
of  the  arts  of  peace.  In  1785,  the  first  great  assaults  were 
made  on  the  wilderness,  in  that  mountainous  region  which 
has  been  the  principal  scene  of  our  tale.  The  Indians  had 
been  driven  oil',  in  a  great  measure,  by  the  events  of  tho 
revolution ;  and  the  owners  of  estates,  granted  under  the 
cruwn,  began  to  search  for  their  lands  in  the  untenanted 
woods.  Such  isolated  families,  too,  as  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  settlements,  now  began  to  return  to  their  deserted  posses 
sions  ;  and  soon  the  smokes  of  clearings  were  obscuring  the 
sun.  Whitestown,  Utica,  on  the  site  of  old  Fort  Stanwix, 
Cooperstown,  for  years  the  seat  of  justice  for  several  thou 
sand  square  miles  of  territory,  all  sprang  into  existence  be 
tween  the  years  1785  and  1790.  Such  places  as  Oxford, 
Binghamton,  Norwich,  Sherburne,  Hamilton,  and  twenty 
more,  that  now  dot  the  region  of  which  we  have  been  writ 
ing,  did  not  then  exist,  even  in  name ;  for,  in  that  day,  the 
appellation  and  maps  came  after  the  place  ;  whereas,  now, 
the  former  precede  the  last. 

The  ten  years  that  elapsed  between  1785  and  1795,  did 
wonders  for  all  this  mountain  district.  More  favourable 
lands  lay  spread  in  the  great  west,  but  the  want  of  roads, 
and  remoteness  from  the  markets,  prevented  their  occupa 
tion.  For  several  years,  therefore,  the  current  of  emigra 
tion  which  started  out  of  the  eastern  states,  the  instant  peace 
was  proclaimed,  poured  its  tide  into  the  counties  mentioned 
in  our  opening  chapter — counties  as  they  are  to-day  ;  county 
ay,  and  fragment  of  a  county,  too,  as  they  were  then. 

The  New  York  Gazette,  a  journal  that  frequently  related 
facts  that  actually  occurred,  announced  in  its  number  of 
June  llth,  1795,  "His  Majesty's  Packet  that  has  just  ar- 
rived" — it  required  half  a  century  to  teach  the  journalists 
of  this  country  the  propriety  of  saying  "  His  Britannic 
Majesty's  Packet,"  instead  of  "  His  Majesty's,"  a  bit  of  good 
taste,  and  of  good  sense,  that  many  of  them  have  yet  to 
learn — "  has  brought  out"  home  would  have  been  better 
"  among  her  passengers,  Lieutenant-General  Sir  Robert 
Willoughby,  and  his  lady,  both  of  whom  are  natives  of  this 
state.  We  welcome  them  back  to  their  land  of  nativity, 
where  we  can  assure  them  they  will  be  cordially  received, 
notwithstanding  old  quarrels.  Major  Willoughby's  kind- 

VOL.  II.— 17 


194  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

ness  to  American  prisoners  is  gratefully  remembered ;  nor 
is  it  forgotten  that  he  desired  to  exchange  to  another  regi 
ment  in  order  to  avoid  further  service  in  this  country." 

It  will  be  conceded,  this  was  a  very  respectable  puff  for 
the  year  1795,  when  something  like  moderation,  truth,  and 
propriety  were  observed  upon  such  occasions.  The  effect 
was  to  bring  the  English  general's  name  into  the  mouths  of 
the  whole  state ;  a  baronet  causing  a  greater  sensation  then, 
in  America,  than  a  duke  would  produce  to-day.  It  had  the 
effect,  however,  of  bringing  around  General  Willoughby 
many  of  his  father's,  and  his  own  old  friends,  and  he  was 
as  well  received  in  New  York,  twelve  years  after  the  termi 
nation  of  the  conflict,  as  if  he  had  fought  on  the  other  side. 
The  occurrence  of  the  French  revolution,  and  the  spread 
of  doctrines  that  were  termed  Jacobinical,  early  removed 
all  the  dissensions  between  a  large  portion  of  the  whigs  of 
America  and  the  tories  of  England,  on  this  side  of  the  wa 
ter  at  least;  and  Providence  only  can  tell  what  might  have 
been  the  consequences,  had  this  feeling  been  thoroughly 
understood  on  the  other. 

Passing  over  all  political  questions,  however,  our  narra 
tive  calls  us  to  the  relation  of  its  closing  scene.  The  visit 
of  Sir  Robert  and  Lady  Willoughby  to  the  land  of  their 
birth  was,  in  part,  owing  to  feeling ;  in  part,  to  a  proper 
regard  for  the  future  provision  of  their  children.  The  ba 
ronet  had  bought  the  ancient  paternal  estate  of  his  family 
in  England,  and  having  two  daughters,  besides  an  only  son, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  the  American  property,  called  the 
Hutted  Knoll,  might  prove  a  timely  addition  to  the  ready 
money  he  had  been  able  to  lay  up  from  his  income.  Then, 
both  he  and  his  wife  had  a  deep  desire  to  revisit  those  scenes 
where  they  had  first  learned  to  love  each  other,  and  which 
still  held  the  remains  of  so  many  who  were  dear  to  them. 

The  cabin  of  a  suitable  sloop  was  therefore  engaged,  and 
the  party,  consisting  of  Sir  Robert,  his  wife,  a  man  and 
woman  servant,  and  a  sort  of  American  courier,  engaged 
for  the  trip,  embarked  on  the  morning  of  the  25th  of  July. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  30th,  the  sloop  arrived  in  safety  at 
Albany,  where  a  carriage  was  hired  to  proceed  the  remain 
der  of  the  way  by  land.  The  route  by  old  Fort  Stanwix, 
as  Utica  was  still  generally  called,  was  taken.  Our  travel- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  105 

lers  reached  it  on  the  >f  the  third  day  ;  tho  '  Sands,' 

which  arc  now  traversed  in  less  than  an  hour,  then  occu 
pying  more  than  hall  of  tin.-  first  day.  When  at  Fort  Stan- 
\vi.\,  a  passable  country  road  was  ii»uml,  by  which  the  tra 
vellers  journeyed  until  they  reached  a  tavern  that  uni'.e.l 
many  of  the  comforts  of  a  coarse  civilisation,  with  frontier 
simplicity.  Here  they  were  given  to  und'-rstand  they  had 
only  a  dozen  miles  to  go,  in  order  to  reach  the  Knoll. 

It  was  necessary  to  make  the  remainder  of  the  journey 
on  horseback.  A  large,  untenanted  estate  lay  between  the 
highway  and  the  valley,  across  which  no  public  road  had 
yet  been  made.  Foot-paths,  however,  abounded,  and  the 
rivulet  was  found  without  any  difficulty.  It  was,  perhaps, 
fortunate  for  the  privacy  of  the  Knoll,  that  it  lay  in  the  line 
of  no  frequented  route,  and, "squatters  being  rare  in  that 
day,  Willoughby  saw,  the  instant  he  struck  the  path  that 
followed  the  sinuosities  of  the  stream.,  that  it  had  been  sel 
dom  trodden  in  the  interval  of  the  nineteen  years  which  had 
occurred  since  he  had  last  seen  it  himself.  The  evidences 
of  this  fact  increased,  as  the  stream  was  ascended,  until  tho 
travellers  reached  the  mill,  when  it  was  found  that  the  spirit 
of  destruction,  which  so  widely  prevails  in  the  loose  state  of 
society  that  exists  in  all  new  countries,  had  been  at  work. 
Kvory  one  of  the  buildings  at  the  falls  had  been  burnt ; 
probably  as  much  because  it  was  in  the  power  of  some  reck 
less  wanderer  to  work  mischief,  as  for  any  other  reason. 
That  the  act  was  the  result  of  some  momentary  impulse, 
was  evident  in  the  circumstance  that  the  mischief  went  no 
further.  Some  of  the  machinery  had  been  carried  away, 
however,  to  be  set  up  in  other  places,  on  a  principle  that  is 
very  widely  extended  through  all  border  settlements,  which 
considers  the  temporary  disuse  of  property  as  its  virtual 
abandonment. 

It  was  a  moment  of  pain  and  pleasure,  strangely  min 
when  Willoughby  and  Maud  reached  the  rocks,  ami 
first  view  of  the   ancient  Heaver  Dam.     All  the  buildings 
remained,  surprisingly  little  altered  to  the  eye  by  the  lapse 
of  years.      The  gates  had  !.«  en  secured  when   they  Id!  tho 
place,  in  177(>  ;  and  the  Hut,  havinir  no  accessible  external 
windows,  that  dwelling  remained  positively  intact.    It  is  true, 
quite   half  the   palisadoes  were  rotted  down  ;  but  the  Hut, 


196  THE     HUTTED     KNOLL. 

itself,  had  resisted  the  ravages  of  time.  A  fire  had  been 
kindled  against  its  side,  but  the  stone  walls  had  opposed  an 
obstacle  to  its  ravages  ;  and  an  attempt,  by  throwing  a 
brand  upon  the  roof,  had  failed  of  its  object,  the  shingles 
not  igniting.  On  examination,  the  lock  of  the  inner  gate 
was  still  secure.  The  key  had  been  found,  and,  on  its  ap 
plication,  an  entrance  was  obtained  into  the  court. 

What  a  moment  was  that,  when  Maud,  fresh  from  the 
luxuries  of  an  English  home,  entered  this  long  and  well  re 
membered  scene  of  her  youth  !  Rank  grasses  were  grow 
ing  in  the  court,  but  they  soon  disappeared  before  the  scythes 
that  had  been  brought,  in  expectation  of  the  circumstance. 
Then,  all  was  clear  for  an  examination  of  the  house.  The 
Hut  was  exactly  in  the  condition  in  which  it  had  been  left, 
with  the  exception  of  a  little,  and  a  very  little,  dust  col 
lected  by  time. 

Maud  was  still  in  the  bloom  of  womanhood,  feminine, 
beautiful,  full  of  feeling,  and  as  sincere  as  when  she  left 
these  woods,  though  her  feelings  were  tempered  a  little  by 
intercourse  with  the  world.  She  went  from  room  to  room, 
hanging  on  Willoughby's  arm,  forbidding  any  to  follow. 
All  the  common  furniture  had  been  left  in  the  house,  in 
expectation  it  would  be  inhabited  again,  ere  many  years ; 
and  this  helped  to  preserve  the  identity.  The  library  was 
almost  entire ;  the  bed-rooms,  the  parlours,  and  even  the 
painting-room,  were  found  very  much  as  they  would  have 
appeared,  after  an  absence  of  a  few  months.  Tears  flowed 
in  streams  down  the  cheeks  of  Lady  Willoughby,  as  she 
went  through  room  after  room,  and  recalled  to  the  mind  of 
her  husband  the  different  events  of  which  they  had  been 
the  silent  witnesses.  Thus  passed  an  hour  or  two  of  unut 
terable  tenderness,  blended  with  a  species  of  holy  sorrow. 
At  the  end  of  that-  time,  the  attendants,  of  whom  many  had 
been  engaged,  had  taken  possession  of  the  offices,  &c.,  and 
were  bringing  the  Hut  once  more  into  a  habitable  condition. 
Soon,  too,  a  report  was  brought  that  the  mowers,  who  had 
been  brought  in  anticipation  of  their  services  being  wanted, 
had  cut  a  broad  swathe  to  the  ruins  of  the  chapel,  and  the 
graves  of  the  family. 

It  was  now  near  the  setting  of  the  sun,  and  the  hour  was 
favourable  for  the  melancholy  duty  that  remained.     For- 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  197 

bidding  any  lo  follow,  Willmighby  proceeded  with  Maud  to 
the  graves..  These  had  born  dug  within  a  little  thicket  of 
shrubs,  planted  by  poor  Jamie  Allen,  under  Maud's  own 
diivetiuiis.  She  had  then  thought  that  the  spot  might  one 
day  be  wanted.  These  bushes,  lilacs,  and  ceringos,  had 
grown  to  a  vast  size,  in  that  rich  soil.  They  completely 
concealed  the  space  within,  an  area  of  some  fifty  square 
feet,  from- the  observation  of  those  without.  The  grass  had 
been  cut  over  all,  however,  and  an  opening  made  by  the 
mowers  gave  access  to  the  graves.  On  reaching  this  open 
ing,  Willoughby  started  at  hearing  voices  within  the  inclo- 
sure;  he  was  about  to  reprove  the  intruders,  when  Maud 
pressed  his  arm,  and  whispered — 

"Listen,  Wilionohhy  —  those  voices  sound  strangely  to 
my  ears  !  We  have  heard  them  before." 

"  I  tell  ye,  Nick — ould  Nicky,  or  Saucy  Nick,  or  what 
ever  's  yer  name,"  said  one  within  in  a  strong  Irish  accent, 
"that  Jamie,  the  mason  that  was,  is  forenent  ye,  at  this 
minute,  under  that  bit  of  a  sod — and,  it 's  his  honour,  and 
Missus,  and  Miss  Beuly,  that  is  buried  here.  Och  !  ye  're 
a  cr'ature,  Nick  ;  good  at  takin'  scalps,  but  ye  knows  nothin* 
of  graves;  barrin'  the  quhantity  ye've  helped  to  fill." 

"  Good"  — answered  the  Indian.  "  Cap'in  here  ;  squaw 
here;  darter  here.  Where  son? — where  t'other  gal?" 

"  Here,"  answered  Willoughby,  leading  Maud  within  the 
hedge.  "  I  am  Robert  Willoughby,  and  this  is  Maud  Mere 
dith,  my  wife." 

Mike  fairly  started  ;  he  even  showed  a  disposition  to  seize 
p.  musket  which  lay  on  the  grass.  As  for  the  Indian,  a  tree 
in  the  forest  could  not  have  stood  less  unmoved  than  he  was 
at  this  unexpected  interruption.  Then  all  four  stood  in  silent 
admiration,  noting  the  changes  which  time  had,  more  or 
less,  wrought  in  all. 

Willoughby  was  in  the  pride  of  manhood.  IIo  had  served 
with  distinction,  and  his  countenance  and  frame  both  showed 
it,  though  neither  had  suffered  more  than  was  necessary  to 
give  him  a  high  military  air,  and  a  look  of  robust  vigour. 
As  (or  Maud,  with  her  graceful  form  fully  developed  by  her 
riding-habit,  her  soft  lineaments  and  polished  expression,  no 
one  would  have  thought  her  more  than  thirty,  which  wag 
ten  years  less  than  her  real  age.  With  Mike  and  Nick  it 
17* 


198  THE     UUTTED     KNOLL. 

was  very  different.  Both  had  grown  old,  not  only  in  fact, 
but  in  appearance.  The  Irishman  was  turned  of  sixty,  and 
his  hard,  coarse-featured  face,  burnt  as  red  as  the  sun  in  a 
fog,  by  exposure  and  Santa  Cruz,  was  getting  to  be  wrinkled 
and  a  little  emaciated.  Still,  his  frame  was  robust  and 
powerful.  His  attire  was  none  of  the  best,  and  it  was  to 
be  seen  at  a  glance  that  it  was  more  than  half  military.  In 
point  of  fact,  the  poor  fellow  had  been  refused  a  reinlistment 
in  the  army,  on  account  of  his  infirmities  and  years,  and 
America  was  not  then  a  country  to  provide  retreats  for  her 
veterans.  Still,  Mike  had  an  ample  pension  for  wounds, 
and  could  not  be  said  to  be  in  want.  He  had  suffered  in 
the  same  battle  with  Joyce,  in  whose  company  he  had  ac 
tually  been  corporal  O'Hearn,  though  his  gallant  commander 
had  not  risen  to  fight  again,  as  had  been  the  case  with  the 
subordinate. 

Wyandotte  exhibited  still  greater  changes.  He  had  seen 
his  threescore  and  ten  years ;  and  was  fast  falling  into  the 
"  sere  and  yellow  leaf."  His  hair  was  getting  grey,  and 
his  frame,  though  still  active  and  sinewy,  would  have  yield 
ed  under  the  extraordinary  marches  he  had  once  made.  In 
dress,  there  was  nothing  to  remark ;  his  ordinary  Indian 
attire  being  in  as  good  condition  as  was  usual  for  the  man. 
Willougbby  thought,  however,  that  his  eye  was  less  wild 
than  when  he  knew  him  before;  and  every  symptom  of  in 
temperance  had  vanished,  not  only  from  his  countenance, 
but  his  person. 

From  the  moment  Willoughby  appeared,  a  marked  change 
came  over  the  countenance  of  Nick.  His  dark  eye,  which 
still  retained  much  of  its  brightness,  turned  in  the  direction 
of  the  neighbouring  chapel,  and  he  seemed  relieved  when  a 
rustling  in  the  bushes  announced  a  footstep.  There  had  not 
been  another  word  spoken  when  the  lilacs  were  shoved  aside, 
and  Mr.  Woods,  a  vigorous  little  man,  in  a  green  old  age, 
entered  the  area.  Willoughby  had  not  seen  the  chaplain 
since  they  parted  at  Albany,  and  the  greetings  were  as  warm 
as  they  were  unexpected. 

"  I  have  lived  a  sort  of  hermit's  life,  my  dear  Bob,  since 
the  death  of  your  blessed  parents,"  said  the  divine,  clearing 
his  eyes  of  tears ;  "  now  and  then  cheered  by  a  precious 
letter  from  yourself  and  Maud — I  call  you  both  by  the  names 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  199 

I  gave  you  both  in  baptism — and  it  was,  *  I,  Maud,  take 
thee,  Robert?  when  you  stood  before  the  altar  in  that  little 
edifice  —  \i>u  \\ill  pardon  me  if  I  am  too  familiar  with  a  ge 
neral  oilier  r  and  his  lady" 

"  Familiar  !"'  exclaimed  both  in  a  breath  ; — and  Maud's 
soft,  \\liite  hand  \\as  extended  towards  the  chaplain,  with 
reproachful  earnestness — "  We,  who  were  made  Christians 
by  you,  and  who  have  so  much  reason  to  remember  and 
love  you  always !" 

"Well,  well;  I  see  you  are  Robert  and  Maud,  still" — 
dashing  streaming  tears  from  his  eyes  now.  "Yes,  I  did 
bring  you  both  into  God's  visible  church  on  earth,  and  you 
were  baptised  by  one  who  received  his  ordination  from  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  himself," — Maud  smiled  a  little 
archly  —  "  and  who  has  never  forgotten  his  ordination  vows, 
as  he  humbly  trusts.  But  you  are  not  the  only  Christians 
I  have  made — I  now  rank  Nicholas  among  the  number" — 

"Nick!"  interrupted  Sir  Robert — "  Wyandotte !"  added 
his  wife,  with  a  more  delicate  tact. 

"  I  call  him  Nicholas,  now,  since  he  was  christened  by 
that  name — there  is  no  longer  a  Wyandotte,  or  a  Saucy 
Nick.  Major  Willoughby,  I  have  a  secret  to  communicate 
— I  beg  pardon,  Sir  Robert — but  you  will  excuse  old  habits 
— if  you  will  walk  this  way." 

Willoughby  was  apart  with  the  chaplain  a  full  half-hour, 
during  which  time  Maud  wept  over  the  graves,  the  rest  stand 
ing  by  in  respectful  silence.  As  for  Nick,  a  stone  could 
scarcely  have  been  more  fixed  than  his  attitude.  Never 
theless,  his  mien  was  rebuked,  his  eye  downcast;  even  his 
bosom  was  singularly  convulsed.  He  knew  that  the  chap 
lain  was  communicating  to  Willoughby  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  slain  his  father.  At  length,  the  gentlemen  returned 
slowly  towards  the  graves;  the  general  agitated,  frowning, 
and  flushed.  As  for  Mr.  Woods,  he  was  placid  and  full  of 
hope.  Willoughby  had  yielded  to  his  expostulations  and 
arguments  a  forgiveness,  which  came  reluctantly,  and  per 
haps  as  much  for  the  want  of  a  suitable  object  for  retaliation, 
as  from  a  sense  of  Christian  duty. 

"  Nicholas,"  said  the  chaplain,  "  I  have  told  the  general 
all." 

u  He  know  him  !"  cried  the  Indian,  with  startling  energy. 


200  THE     HUTTED      KNOLL. 

"  I  do,  Wyandotte ;  and  sorry  have  I  been  to  learn  if. 
You  have  made  my  heart  bitter." 

Nick  was  terribly  agitated.  His  youthful  and  former 
opinions  maintained  a  fearful  struggle  with  those  which  had 
come  late  in  life ;  the  result  being  a  wild  admixture  of  hig 
sense  of  Indian  justice,  and  submission  to  the  tenets  of  his 
new,  and  imperfectly-comprehended  faith.  For  a  moment, 
the  first  prevailed.  Advancing,  with  a  firm  step,  to  the 
general,  he  put  his  own  bright  and  keen  tomahawk  into  the 
other's  hands,  folded  his  arms  on  his  bosom,  bowed  his  head 
a  little,  and  said,  firmly — 

"  Strike— Nick  kill  cap'in— Major  kill  Nick." 

"  No,  Tuscarora,  no,"  answered  Sir  Robert  Willoughby, 
his  whole  soul  yielding  before  this  act  of  humble  submission 
—  "  May  God  in  heaven  forgive  the  deed,  as  I  now  forgive 
you." 

There  was  a  wild  smile  gleaming  on  the  face  of  the  In 
dian  ;  he  grasped  both  hands  of  Willoughby  in  his  own. 
He  then  muttered  the  words,  "  God  forgive,"  his  eye  rolled 
upward  at  the  clouds,  and  he  fell  dead  on  the  grave  of  his 
victim.  It  was  thought,  afterwards,  that  agitation  had  ac 
celerated  the  crisis  of  an  incurable  affection  of  the  heart. 

A  few  minutes  of  confusion  followed.  Then  Mike,  bare 
headed,  his  old  face  flushed  and  angry,  dragged  from  his 
pockets  a  string  of  strange-looking,  hideous  objects,  and  laid 
them  by  the  Indian's  side.  They  were  human  scalps,  collected 
by  himself,  in  the  course  of  many  campaigns,  and  brought, 
as  a  species  of  hecatomb,  to  the  graves  of  the  fallen. 

"  Out  upon  ye,  Nick  !"  he  cried.  "  Had  I  known  the  like 
of  that,  little  would  I  have  campaigned  in  yer  company  ! 
Och!  'twas  an  undacent  deed,  and  a  hundred  confessions 
would  barely  wipe  it  from  yer  sowl.  It's  a  pity,  too,  that 
ye  've  died  widout  absolution  from  a  praist,  sich  as  I  've 
tould  ye  off.  Barrin'  the  brache  of  good  fellicship,  I  could 
have  placed  yer  own  scalp  wid  the  rest,  as  a  p'ace-ofFering, 
to  his  Honour,  the  Missus  and  Miss  Beuly " 

"Enough,"  interrupted  Sir  Robert  Willoughby,  with  an 
authority  of  manner  that  Mike's  military  habits  could  not 
resist ;  "  the  man  has  repented,  and  is  forgiven.  Maud, 
love,  it  is  time  to  quit  this  melancholy  scene  ;  occasions  will 
offer  to  revisit  it" 


THE     HUTTED     KNOLL.  201 

In  the  end,  Mr.  Woods  took  possession  of  the  Hut,  as  a 
sort  of  hermitage,  in  which  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his 
days.  He  had  toiled  hard  for  the  conversion  of  Nick,  in 
gratitude  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had  fought  in  defence 
of  the  females.  He  now  felt  as  keen  a  desire  to  rescue 
the  Irishman  from  the  superstitions  of  what  he  deemed  an 
error  quite  as  fatal  as  heathenism.  Mike  consented  to  pass 
the  remainder  of  his  days  at  the  Knoll,  which  was  to  be, 
and  in  time,  was,  renovated,  under  their  joint  care. 

Sir  Robert  and  Lady  Willoughby  passed  a  month  in  the 
valley.  Nick  had  been  buried  within  the  bushes  ;  and  even 
Maud  had  come  to  look  upon  this  strange  conjunction  of 
graves,  with  the  eye  of  a  Christian,  blended  with  the  tender 
regrets  of  a  woman.  The  day  that  the  general  and  his 
wife  left  the  valley  for  ever,  they  paid  a  final  visit  to  the 
graves.  Here  Maud  wept  for  an  hour.  Then  her  husband, 
passing  an  arm  around  her  waist,  drew  her  gently  away  ; 
saying,  as  they  were  quitting  the  inclosure — 

"They  are  in  Heaven,  dearest— ^looking  down  in  love, 
quite  likely,  on  us,  the  objects  of  so  much  of  their  earthly 
affection.  As  for  Wyandotte,  he  lived  according  to  his 
habits  and  intelligence,  and  happily  died  under  the  convic 
tions  of  a  conscience  directed  by  the  lights  of  divine  grace. 
Little  will  the  deeds  of  this  life  be  remembered,  among 
those  who  have  been  the  true  subjects  of  its  blessed  influ 
ence.  If  this  man  were  unmerciful  in  his  revenge,  he  also 
remembered  my  mother's  kindnesses,  and  bled  for  her  and 
her  daughters.  Without  his  care,  my  life  would  have 
remained  unblessed  with  your  love,  my  ever-precious  Maud ! 
He  never  forgot  a  favour,  or  forgave  an  injury." 


THE    END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


LOAN  DEPT. 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


'••.  .«- 

-TJ^T- 


1958 


LOAN 


03 


*O< 


LD  21A-50m-4,'60 
(A9562slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


,,     < 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


